


Milk and Honey

by Courtanie



Category: South Park
Genre: Drama & Romance, F/M, Love Triangles, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 07:24:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 68,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4339253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Courtanie/pseuds/Courtanie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regardless of who it is and how much you love them, not every relationship is going to be your fairytale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Afterfade

The air conditioning of the room glided blissfully over their sweat-soaked skin. Two bodies lied side-by-side as their chests heaved towards the ceiling. Their eyes occasionally glanced towards one another, both worriedly searching for words although the two of them knew well enough that words weren't needed. They never were. The larger of the two reached down, peeling the spent condom off of himself and tossing it into the wastebasket beside the bed. The younger watched every movement through the veil of moonlight peeking in the draped window. His analytic green eyes tracing over the curves of his partner's muscles, the broad lining of his physique. He couldn't help but smile to himself. He knew he'd lucked out, catching the eyes of someone so perfectly sculpted, someone so _beautiful_.

The other caught his stand and he could make out a smile creeping over his handsome face in the darkness. "Something the matter, Kyle?" he teased.

Kyle rolled his eyes. Stan loved taunting him after sex. It never failed. He let out a 'hmph', rolling over onto his side and draping his arm over Stan's torso. He moved his head to rest on the boy's shoulder, his fingers mindlessly stroking the sheets beneath them.

Stan chuckled, arm moving to twirl fingers delicately through Kyle's curly red hair, a movement he knew was making the boy on top of him melt against him. "Why are you so tired?" he whispered, his warm breath bouncing through wisps of auburn. "I was doing all the work."

"Shut up," Kyle mumbled tiredly, swatting at him. "You wouldn't understand."

"Guess not," he snorted, kissing the top of his head lightly.

"Though..." Kyle tilted his face up towards him. "We could always let you find out," he smiled innocently, poking at his side lightly.

"No thanks," Stan smirked back, reaching over to his nightstand and pushing the button for his alarm. The both watched the red 6:45 AM blinking in the darkness before turning back to 11:42.

"Why not?" Kyle questioned quietly, his finger ghosting over Stan's bare chest.

"Not interested," Stan worked out through a heavy yawn. He moved, grabbing his blanket from the foot of the bed and shielding their naked bodies against exposure.

"Why not?" Kyle repeated, drooping against him exhaustively.

"Ky, you like being on bottom, right?"

"Well...yeah but-"

"Then why change what we both like?"

Kyle was silent as a frown worked its way over his slender face, "Maybe I'd like to be on top now and again."

"You have been."

"Sitting on top of you and still having your dick up my ass doesn't constitute as topping, Stan," he argued.

"You're smaller," Stan stated bluntly. "Smaller people on the bottom."

Kyle sat up rapidly and glared at him, trying to ignore the blood now rushing to his head from the sudden movement. "So, you'd let Cartman top you," he spat.

"What?! Hell no, I don't need to think about that thing being naked, thanks," Stan stuck his tongue out in disgust.

"You're missing my point," Kyle set his lips firmly. "Just because I'm smaller than you-"

"Than anyone," Stan interrupted smugly.

"Shut up. Point is that I'm just as much of a man as you are. Why shouldn't I have the same privileges as you?"

"Because I love your fine ass," Stan smiled cheekily and smacked it firmly atop the blanket.

Kyle stayed silent, biting the inside of his lip before pushing off of Stan and rolling off the bed.

"Where are you going?" Stan blinked after him.

"I have to piss," Kyle said dryly. "Or do I not have the same bathroom privileges as Thine Holiness either?"

"Oh Jesus Christ, Kyle," Stan rolled his eyes. "No need to be such a girl about it."

Kyle cringed at the word, the aggravated side of him pining to yell and throw things for that comment. The exasperated side won out, however and he silently pulled on his pajama bottoms before heading out of the bedroom into the hallway of the Marsh home. He practically dove into the bathroom to distance himself, quietly shutting and locking the door behind him. He headed over to the sink, turning the faucet on cold and watching it cascade down the drain. His tired eyes glanced up at the mirror, looking at the mess of his post-coital self. He took a handful of water and splashed it over his hair, fingers working methodically to make sense of his frizzy and squished locks. He swiped his hand over his face dampening his burning flesh with the drops that escaped his bangs. His eyes glanced to a single, vibrant red mark of his chest. He grimaced.

Only one.

When they'd started out only seven months beforehand, Stan couldn't keep his hands off of him. Kyle felt himself lucky for the winter season, easily able to hide the marks with a steady supply of scarves and turtlenecks. Red, purple, and blue hickeys, teeth marks, and other markings became a permanent part of his complexion. He loved those marks. It meant that Stan was claiming him, was letting everyone else know that Kyle was his and his alone.

But now? Only one that someone could pass off as mild skin irritation.

Kyle pressed his thumb against the hickey, pulling back and watching it fade from white back into bright red.

He frowned, feeling a heavy pull at his heart. Tonight's minor squabble shouldn't have been bugging him so much. He knew that. In fact, Kyle honestly didn't care how they had sex. His interest in topping was really only fleeting, nothing that egged him on or irked him after each tumble in the sheets. He was just happy enough being able to be with Stan. He just wasn't sure if it was the same the other way around. Stan became so stoic towards him in such a short amount of time. It worried Kyle. It worried him a little too much for his own good.

Stan being so adamant on keeping things in his comfort zone was wearing down on Kyle's nerves. Nothing was spontaneous anymore. Even tonight was just a typical Wednesday for the two of them. Go to school, hit Stan's house, eat and play the same damn Call of Duty game a few hours, then retreat to the bedroom and have sex once Randy and Sharon were asleep.

The routine wasn't one of comfort, it was monotony. It was stale. And as much as Kyle hated to admit it, it was just _boring_.

He sighed, turning the faucet off with a limp hand. He could feel his eyes weighing down in his exhaustion. He ran his fingers through his hair a final time before looking at his expression to be sure his frustration had dissipated from his face.

He took a long breath before turning on his heel and walking out of the bathroom. He made his way back towards Stan's door, trying desperately to ignore the incredible tensed state building up in his shoulders. He quietly stepped back into the dark room and watched the bed as he shut the door behind him. He could hear the typical deep breathing of his lover and couldn't help but sigh.

Sex then sleep. It was like a program set to loop through the wiring of Stan's brain. Nothing else could interrupt that routine. Not anymore.

Kyle made his way over to the bed, trying to plod softly on the carpeted surface. He slid onto his side, kicking his covers to the end of the bed. He couldn't take heat right now. He was still just too worked up.

He sighed again, lying on his side and towards the window facing away from Stan. His hand wormed up under his head and he lightly twirled a curled strand meticulously around his finger.

The bed shifted and he could feel Stan moving towards him. "You all right?" Stan muttered by his ear.

"I'm fine," he replied, never peeling his eyes from the window.

He felt more movement before the weight of covers were thrown over his torso. "No," he said tiredly, throwing them back off. A moment of heavy silence passed before a strong arm wrapped around his stomach. Stan pulled him flush back against himself, only the comforter keeping Kyle from practically melding into his skin.

A very mumbled "Love you," was uttered from the skin of his shoulder blade and Kyle shuddered. He knew Stan loved him, he knew that something was still there. It just wasn't the same forcible passion that had convinced Kyle to love him back. But it still stirred up a spark somewhere deep inside of him.

He shifted, falling deeper into the pillows and closer into Stan, who was already falling back asleep. Kyle let a few moments pass, his eyes still trained on a tree branch hovering right outside the window as his lids began to tiredly droop. Stan shifted once more, holding him tighter as Kyle breathed out into vacant moonlight, "you, too."


	2. Unrequited

"You know, this is probably why we're failing geography," Craig Tucker leaned back against the brick wall at the back of the high school, his words escaping alongside little puffs of smoke. His bored, stoney gray gaze glanced towards the two sitting to his right.

The blonde beside of him shrugged, "Look at all the fucks we give," he bounced the cigarette in his fingers dismissively.

"Yeah, what does Po' boy care?" the large brunette on the end snorted. "If he graduates, he'll get a cheap ride to college at any rate since his family's so goddamn poor."

"Fuck off, Cartman," Kenny sighed. "Get some goddamn new material."

"Get some goddamn money and I will," Cartman sneered.

"Cartman, I swear to God-"

"Cool it, McCormick," Craig interrupted, groaning in quiet irritation at his now smoldering cigarette from listening to the two of them bantering. He pulled his cobalt lighter out of his pocket and shook it lightly, grimacing at the sound of limited fluid. "I go through these damn things like they grow on trees when you two talk," he stated blatantly, relighting his cancer stick with an air of boredom.

"Well no one invited you to listen, Asshole," Cartman retorted.

"Hard not to listen to the bellowing beluga and his shrimpy orange companion."

"Beluga?" Cartman repeated with a scowl. "Better than being an ass-ramming pig fucker like you, Craig."

"Well if I'm an ass-rammer and I fuck pigs, bend over and lube up, Porky."

"Fuck you!"

"Oh my _god_ will you two shut up?" Kenny beat his head softly against the wall.

They were silent for a moment before Craig smirked softly at him. "Your morning flask finally catchin' up with ya, McCormick?"

"Shut up," Ken looked at him with hazy blue eyes. "I needed it."

Craig took another drag, looking away from him indifferently. "Dad buggin' ya again?"

"Still," he rolled his eyes. "Yellin' at me for not havin' a job and supportin' _his_ family."

"I think he's more concerned with you supporting his habits than you guys gettin' food," Craig input quietly.

"The hell's he need Kinny for for that?" Cartman snorted, reaching into Kenny's hoodie pocket, ignoring the boy's short-lived protest. He shook the swiped cigarette pack in front of them before flipping the top and grabbing one. "They practically get these for free anyway."

"Buy your own goddamn smokes," Ken growled, snatching the Marlboros back from the glutton's hand.

"Only if you do first. And those are more my cigs than yours anyway, Po' boy. Taxpayers pay for that shit. We give you Welfare and you use it for smokes and drinks. If I was in charge, you free-loading hippies wouldn't get a dime of mah hard earned money."

The other two stared at him with raised brows. "Cartman you've never paid taxes in your life. You've never had a job," Kenny stated.

"Well who wants to hire a fatass who can't walk half a mile without crying he needs a break?" Craig asked.

Cartman sneered and flipped the both of them off. "Screw you guys. I already got my cigs so I'm outta here." He stood with his backpack and began walking away as the other two watched him.

"The door's on the other side of the school," Kenny shouted after him. "Sure you'll make it?" He turned to Craig and mouthed in-sync with the retreating brunette 'fuck you, you poor piece of shit!' The two of them chuckled quietly as Cartman disappeared around the corner. Ken shook his head softly. "Why the hell do we hang out with him anyway?"

"What's this 'we'?" Craig asked, ashing his cigarette onto the pavement. "I hang out with you. He's just somehow always here."

Kenny snorted softly, throwing his smoking butt in front of him and grinding it out with his worn tennis shoes. "I guess I keep him around out of sheer desperation for companionship."

"Well if you're lonely, my bed's free tonight," Craig elbowed him lightly.

Kenny looked at him with a crooked smirk on his lips. "Lemme think here. Go home and get beaten and screamed at by my folks or go to your place for sex, a hot shower, and raiding your fridge. Oh decisions, decisions."

"Tough one, ain't it?" Craig rolled his eyes.

"I don't know if I can choose," he teased.

"Flip a goddamn coin."

"My guess is that you're praying it lands on head," Ken smirked playfully.

"My head to your tail."

"I think I have my answer then," he chuckled, placing his hands behind his head. They sat in silence for a bit before the sound of the bell echoed out an open window above their heads. "One of us needs to learn how to drive," Kenny commented.

"Why? Just another bill to deal with."

"Yeah but then we could just leave instead of skipping and sitting out here just waiting to be caught."

"Hey, I don't mind Token driving me around in a Mercedes," Craig scoffed, flicking away his cigarette. "And you like chillin' with Broflovski, so I don't see the problem."

Kenny scooted closer towards him with a sly smile. "If we could drive, we wouldn't have to wait so long for the good stuff," he purred up by Craig's ear, nipping lightly at the skin.

"Hm," Craig mused thoughtfully before diving his head down and biting at his neck. "Maybe I like keeping you in anticipation, Asshat."

"Oh I do love your pet names," Ken scoffed, shifting his shoulder down and reclaiming Craig's lobe.

"Pet names are for girlfriends," Craig breathed against him hotly. "Not fuck toys."

"So that's all I am?" Kenny teased, trailing soft kisses on his neck. He already knew the answer, but it was always fun seeing how long it took to make Craig fight for his words. "I'm just your little fuck toy?"

"You know it," Craig murmured, his hands methodically sliding behind him, diving under his orange shirt and digging his dull nails into the small of the boy's back.

Kenny moved under his grasp and smashed their lips together ferociously. Teeth and tongue collided against each other like war. They didn't consider it passion, they never had. Just raw need for the closeness, for the illusion of something other than what they had.

Kenny's hand slid along Craig's leg as he perched up on his knees and leaned in over him, dominating the kiss. Craig's hand moved down, firmly grabbing his ass and dragging his nails over the denim-covered flesh. Kenny grinned against him, his hand sliding down the front of his jeans. Craig let out a small, breathy moan as Ken firmly grasped him, his hand slowly and precisely rubbing over his boxers. Kenny could just feel him becoming pure putty under his expert hand.

His teeth latched onto Craig's bottom lip before letting go and whispering, "Only a fuck toy?"

"No, a total whore," he licked over his teeth and squeezed Kenny's ass again, pulling him back against his mouth. Kenny moaned, grasping at Craig's growing cock and swirling his tongue around the other's.

"Hey fellas!" a voice broke through the limited air between them. They ripped their mouths apart and turned to see Butters waving at them in the distance.

"Oh look, Cockblock Stotch," Craig rolled his eyes, letting go of Ken's ass. He grabbed the blonde's wrist and ripped it out of his jeans, fixing his clothes as Butters approached the two of them rapidly.

Kenny sighed, blowing his bangs out of his face. "Hey, Butters," he greeted, getting to his feet and helping Craig up as well. Butters ran up in front of them, glancing around.

"Where's Eric?"

"Well, you can rule out the gym," Craig stated blandly.

"We don't know," Ken shrugged, "Went back in not too long ago."

"Oh. A-all righty then," he scratched his head awkwardly.

Kenny raised his brow. "Somethin' wrong? Usually ya woulda ran off by now to find 'im."

"Well," he glanced around nervously. "J-Just between us fellers, do you know if Eric and Kyle got into it again?"

"They got out of it at some point?" Craig scoffed. "Those two just need to have hate sex and get it the fuck over with."

"Whaddya mean, Butters?" Kenny sighed, shaking his head subtly at Craig's commentary.

"W-well I mean today," he clarified. "Did they argue today?"

Ken looked up thoughtfully. "Well in Chem, Cartman hit Kyle with a beaker and Kyle punched him but that's it. Nothin' weird 'bout that. Though Ky did seem abnormally pissy."

"So...it wasn't Eric," Butters looked at the ground confusedly.

"What wasn't Er-ugh, Cartman?" Craig demanded impatiently.

Butters looked at him before locking his eyes in Kenny's "Kyle seems awful sore today."

"Took one too many in the ass probably," Craig snorted.

Kenny's expression fell into concern, ignoring the raven-haired boy beside of him. "Why are ya sayin' this, Butters? Is Ky okay?"

Butters bit his lip worriedly, "Now, y-ya didn't hear this from me, but I think Stan and Kyle are fightin'."

Kenny blinked, "Whoa, what now?"

"The perfect lovey-dovey duo are at it?" Craig said disbelievingly. "Damn. Does this mean Armageddon's on the way or what?"

"Shut up a sec," Ken waved him away. "Dude, did they brawl or somethin'?" he asked Butters. "Ky didn't mention nothin' in class to me."

"W-well, no. Nothin' so bad. They just ain' talkin'," he explained. "Ya know how they always meet at Kyle's locker before third period?"

"Yeah...?" Kenny raised his brow.

"W-well Stan walked up and, and then Kyle just slammed his locker and walked away from 'im. Stan looked confused as all heck, I'll tell ya."

"Oh shit," Kenny sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Stan fucked somethin' up."

"Who cares?" Craig said. "It isn't your problem."

"Those two are my best friends, Dickhead," he snapped. "It is my problem." He started going towards the front of the school before hearing Butters shouting after him.

"Where ya goin', Ken?" he asked worriedly.

"To find Ky before he forgets he's my ride and drives off in rage," he called back, continuing to hurry around the corner. He grimaced as he weaved around people exiting the building in agitation. He couldn't help but feel completely stupid for missing that Kyle was so upset. The thought of he and Stan fighting never even crossed his mind. It seemed too far-fetched as well as they were. Well, as well as they always had been.

He pushed through the front doors, immediately finding Kyle at his locker not far down the hall. His bright hair stood a stark contrast to the murky beige metal lining the way. He breathed a small sigh of relief before it died off as he walked closer, noticing the faint crease of Kyle's brow.

He was stewing. That was bad. It was more dangerous when he was thinking than it was when he was up in your face screaming at you. It was a lesson Kenny learned when the both of them wound up spending the night in jail when the police caught Kenny with a bag of weed on him when they were out together. Kyle spent the entire night just staring at the wall in silence, not listening as Kenny frantically explained that they were going to be fine, that the amount in that bag wasn't enough to do jack shit for him so they would get out of there in no time. As soon as they were out the doors, Kyle made quick work to break his nose and then leave him to walk home. Luckily the redhead had forgiven him for that night but since then, Kenny had well learned to tread carefully with Kyle when he was in this mood.

He stepped towards him somewhat cautiously. He hadn't seen a situation where Kyle was troubled with matters of the heart. Aside from a trial run with Bebe that ended in disaster, Kyle hadn't really been very interested in pursuing a relationship. It took everyone by storm when he was the one to put the moves on Stan. It was a very rocky time in those first few days but after Stan agreed, everything just seemed to be peachy keen in their little world. The two of them in a possible argument was entirely new territory. Kenny had been there when Bebe dumped poor Kyle but that wasn't so bad. But Kyle _loved_ Stan, the blonde could see it clear as day. Anything that upset him was bound to be cataclysmic.

"Yo," he greeted, leaning on the locker next to Kyle's.

Green eyes flickered towards his and a noticeably forced smile crossed over his face. "Hey."

"Ready t' go?"

"Just about," he replied, grabbing two textbooks out of their holding before slamming the door shut. He took a deep breath with his hand still flat against the locker.

Kenny shifted uncomfortably, a bit nervous about what he could possibly say. He wasn't willing to walk around with a busted nose again. "Uh...everythin' okay?"

"Glorious," he said, stepping back and looking at him tiredly. Kenny could see heavy bags under his bright eyes and a part of him curled. Stan fucked up enough for Kyle not to get any sleep. This could be bad. This could be very very bad. Kyle began walking towards the door and Kenny scrambled after him. They walked side-by-side in silence out into the mildly brisk spring air, Kyle keeping his focus straight ahead, his shoulders tensed and his posture unnervingly stiffened.

"So..." Ken cleared his throat. "How's Stan?" Bluntness. Always the way to see if Kyle was just mildly upset over something or if he was outright pissed.

Kyle came to a stop on the sidewalk, Kenny noticing his fists clenching and his nostrils subtly flaring. Okay. So he was outright pissed. To the point where he looked like he could probably punch a hole straight through the cement under their feet. Kenny bit his lip a bit, very cautiously touching his arm. He winced as he felt how tensive the redhead was before placing his other hand on his back, starting to lead him back towards the parking lot. His eyes flickered into Kyle's, cringing when he saw nearly nothing but that vivid green surrounding pinhead pupils of anger and adrenaline. He could feel the subtle tremors of his muscles and couldn't help but gulp.

He moved them towards Kyle's black Focus, helping him up to sit on the hood of the car. Kenny cocked his head at him as the boy threw his backpack onto the ground, falling back and resting on the windshield. Kyle could make it as a car magazine model if he wanted to, he certainly had the figure for it. Kenny blinked and shook those thoughts out of his head, knowing that right now was not the best time to be scrutinizing his friend. He hopped up on the hood beside him, placing his bag on the ground as well as he stared down at the still-shaking Jew.

"What happened?" he asked quietly.

Kyle looked at him tiredly, "Who told you something happened?"

"A little birdie," he shrugged.

"If that little birdie happens to be Leopold Stotch I need to remind him about the talk we had about minding his own damn business," he snapped.

"Whoa whoa whoa now," Kenny held up his hands defensively. "This ain't about Butters, he doesn't deserve that. He was just seein' if I knew why ya were upset. He was bein' a friend, Dude."

Kyle hesitated before letting out a long sigh. "Yeah. I know."

"Now," Kenny started up again. "What's goin on with you n' Stan?"

Kyle opened his mouth before closing it again, sitting up and letting his shoulders slump miserably. "Ken...I feel like there's something missing."

"Like...what? Money? Time in the sack? Another member in yer guys' sack because if you're looking for auditions I'll give ya a hell of a sho-"

"No," Kyle sighed out agitatedly.

"Then what?" he asked seriously. "Dude, whatever ya tell me will stay between us and you know it."

"Good because what I'm about to say makes me sound like a fucking chick," he rolled his eyes.

"Well ya usually have those moments," Kenny smirked. He placed his hand on his shoulder and shook him slightly. "Whaddya think is missin'?"

Kyle looked at him, a faint trace of embarrassment lining his narrow cheekbones. "Passion," he breathed out softly. "I've tried all night to come up with another word but goddammit that's as much as I've been able to come up with."

Kenny cocked his head a bit. "Well one, that's not really a girly thing to say. If yer lackin, yer lackin'. Two, what the hell are ya talkin' about?"

Kyle breathed out heavily, kicking his feet a bit and staring at the ground. "Do you remember after Stan and I started dating?"

"Yeah. I ain't never seen ya so happy," Kenny chuckled.

"Exactly. Remember when he put all those flowers in my locker? And I opened it up and it made a mess in the hallway?" he smirked softly, Kenny able to see his eyes misting in the slightest.

"Yeah. Ya almost beat the shit out of him for giving you flowers since yer a guy," Kenny cackled. "I honestly thought you two would have a real fight after that one. But instead I see you the next day with the same clothes on and your hair lookin' like high Hell."

Kyle chuckled, blushing a bit more before looking at Kenny sadly. "I miss that."

"You miss sex? Kyle, if he's holding out on you I'm more than willing to fulfill that end of his deal."

"No, Kenny," he glared, though Ken could easily see the sparks of laughter crossing through his eyes. In a way, the laughter hurt more than the stern look. "I miss...spontaneity," he explained. "We still have sex, we still have fun together...sort of," he shrugged.

"Sort of?" he raised his brow. "Mr. Broflovski, from what yer telling me, you two are boring. Yer in a rut of sorts."

"...Yeah," he nodded softly. "I guess we are. But I don't know if Stan sees it that way or if it's just me."

"Lemme ask you a question," Kenny said, leaning back with his hands behind his head against the windshield. "Ya don't gotta answer."

"Well...shoot," Kyle urged.

Blue eyes locked in green and a heavy beat of silence passed before Kenny asked, "How often does he tell ya he loves ya?"

Kyle's pupils shrank again and he looked down in thought. "I...I don't really think about it..."

"Ya gotta. Anyone in any relationship is gonna wonder why the L word is either said too much or not enough."

Kyle's eyes flickered around like helpless flies caught in a jar, Kenny's teeth grated his lip as he noticed Kyle's face becoming deeper and deeper in sadness. "He...after...oh shit," he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, closing his eyes and taking deep, angry breaths.

Kenny watched him for a bit before sighing quietly. "He only tells you after sex, doesn't he?"

Kyle looked at him again, his eyes swimming in a green sea of worry. "Ken...what if he doesn't love me anymore?"

"Kyle I hardly doubt that's the cas-"

"But it would explain so much," he stated frantically. "Why he's so boring, why he doesn't kiss me as often, why I only have one hickey, why I-"

"Whoa, one?" Kenny blinked. "Dude, ya used to look like a domestic abuse victim. Did he really cut down that much?"

Kyle pulled down the collar of his shirt, pointing at the faded red spot on his skin. Kenny squinted at it and looked at him sympathetically. "Hell, Dude, that looks more like a zit as miniscule as it is." Kyle's face fell deeper into hurt as he fixed his shirt up.

"Kenny, what do I do?" he begged.

"Do you want me to talk to him?" he suggested. "I mean, you just stomping around him and being pissed ain't gonna solve anything and you know it."

"I know," he said quietly. "I'm just not in the mood to talk to him right now. He's so...mundane about me anymore. It's like we're back to where we were before the dating. Except for the sex part."

"So friends with benefits," Kenny shrugged. "That thing ya wouldn't let _me_ be," he pouted.

Kyle sighed heavily and shook his head, "Ken, are you really still bent on that?"

"Hey you pour your heart and soul out to someone and have it rejected and you tell me how you feel."

The redhead raised his brow. "And I quote, 'Kyle, your ass is damn fine. I want to plow that thing into next week.' You call that your heart and soul?"

"My heart n' soul are very vulgar," he shrugged. "And you know words ain't my strong suit."

"Isn't that the truth," he rolled his eyes before smiling at him softly. "Kenny, I love Stan. A lot. I have for...a really fucking long time."

"I know."

"I honestly don't know where to go from here, though. If he doesn't love me back...fuck, Kenny, I don't know what to do."

"Kyle, Stan loves you...just...maybe not to the _extent_ that you love him, ya know?" he winced, noticing that hit a hell of a nerve with the Jew. "Lots of relationships start out strong but then ya start noticin' things dyin' down and ya ain't used to it, ya know?"

Kyle sighed, nodding in agreement. "I guess. But Stan's...been my best friend for so long. I didn't think things would ever start going backwards on me, even when we started dating. Everything we did was just...nothing but what I thought was love or something cheesy like that. Everything felt like fire and it was amazing...now I'm impressed when there's a spark of something."

Kenny bit his lip, rubbing Kyle's shoulder softly. "Look, you need to talk with Stan then. Don't ignore him, you know that the boy ain't that smart, look at how he fucked up with Wendy," he chuckled. Kyle sneered lightly at the name. Wendy and him hadn't gotten along very well since the boys started dating, she was hellbent on making Kyle look like shit in front of the school and was able to succeed a number of times. Ken cleared his throat and continued, "Stan needs blunt direction," he explained, "and you know that. Just take the time and tell 'im about what you want, huh?"

"Yeah...yeah I guess," Kyle sighed, scratching his fingers delicately through his wild hair. "This shouldn't be this damn complicated."

"Bro, have you listened to half the people in this school complainin' that matters of the heart are the worst things ever?" he rolled his eyes.

"Well...don't you feel that way?" he asked curiously.

"I'm not exactly in the position to make those kinds of judgements, Dude."

"Oh...but...I thought...you and Craig were-"

"Friends with benefits," Kenny interrupted. "Neither one of us can have the person we actually want so we just fell into each other, so to speak."

"What? Who does Craig want? Or you for that matter?"

"Craig wants Tweek but Tweek refuses to be in a relationship with as antsy as he is. And you know damn well who I want," he hopped off the car and stretched. Kyle watched him with a heavy expression and sighed.

"Ken you should have said something earlier," he stated, sliding off beside him and picking up his book bag. "You told me all that right before Stan and I...I'm really sorry-"

"Dude, Bro, it's fine," he laughed. "You got yer boyfriend and I got a fuck buddy. In my opinion, we all win in some small way."

"You sound bitter."

"That's just the alcohol talkin, my dear Kyle," he winked.

"Alco-...Kenny what the fuck are you into now?" he demanded.

Kenny looked around for any teachers before pulling a flask out of his jeans pocket and shaking it around, a part of him sad when he heard no swishing around in the metal containment. "Bad morning, have some whiskey, good day," he beamed.

Kyle glared at him angrily. "Kenny, you're smarter than that."

"I may be smarter but alcohol is my friend. He never lies. He only shows me the true side of myself and those around me."

Kyle opened his mouth to argue before just growling in irritation and rolling his eyes. "All right, fine. You wanna destroy your brain cells that's just fine with me. Don't come crying to me when your liver is threatening to jump out of your body, though." He pulled his car keys out and unlocked the doors and they both hopped inside, leaning against the cloth seats and sighing tiredly. Kyle started up the car and they both jumped at the sound of some rock song blaring through the small vehicle. Kenny looked out the window as Kyle backed the car up, sighing a heavy sigh of relief.

Lecture aside, getting Kyle to focus somewhere other than on pitying him for his failure to obtain a relationship was fine by Kenny. It was still a sour chord, in fact perhaps the _only_ bad note, between the two of them. Kyle did nothing but apologize and Kenny didn't really have a response for him being sorry. Kenny couldn't be mad at him for going for the chance to be happy with Stan, but that didn't stop him for stewing in a bit of rage that Kyle never considered giving _him_ the chance _._ But that was nearly a year in the past. Kenny liked to think that he'd grown since then. Masturbatory fantasies and the faint hope that Kyle would find his way to him one day didn't count as a crush in the blonde's mind. He knew that it was a load of bullshit, but it was something that kept him going day to day. He learned to live with it.

He sighed once more, leaning his head against the window and staring up at the blue sky, his eyes mindlessly following a bird as it fluttered around a tree. He vaguely heard Kyle talking to him about classes and responded thusly, his mind really not into his retorts. He couldn't help but be riddled with the idea that maybe this whole argument with Stan was going to give himself the chance to move forward with Kyle. As much as he wanted to scold himself for thinking as such it was really only natural; not to mention completely unavoidable. But Kyle said it himself: he loved Stan. So this wasn't going to put the blonde in Kyle's eyesight anytime soon.

The story of his life.


	3. The Head Turns

Kenny's legs splayed down atop the mattress, spread out with his knees bearing harsh, red tones. He dipped his hips down, allowing his cock to taste delicious friction against the cotton sheets.

"Fuck!" he panted, thrusting his hips back against Craig. The raven haired boy's fingers dug into Kenny's waistline, pulling and pushing, scratching and groping.

Kenny's nails slid along the bed, grasping at the fabric and ripping the ends of the corner of the mattress. His teeth bared, he sank them down onto the bed in front of him, letting out long, guttural moans of pleasure and begging. Craig's fingers slid down along his back before tangling in his hair, ripping him upright with a startled yelp. The feeling of Craig's hot and heavy breath weighed against his neck, his skin glazed over with sweat. "Craig...Craig shit," he hissed, throwing his head back onto the boy's shoulder, his mouth agape and his hands reaching behind him desperately, scraping his nails around any part of Craig's skin that he could manage to get a hold on.

Craig merely grunted, leaning down and sinking his teeth viciously into Kenny's shoulder. The boy arched forward with a cry, only for Craig's arm to sneak around and grab him across his stomach, pulling him violently back down along his cock. His hand wormed its way down, grasping around Kenny's dick firmly and stroking him in time with his thrusts. Kenny let out a series of mumbles and moans that shot straight down to Craig's libido, his rhythm becoming quickly destabilized and his movements more and more harsh and violent with each pulse.

"Fuck, there! There!" Kenny pled, his body shaking and his eyes closed, teeth scraping over his lip angrily, demanding more feeling to arise from his body. Craig merely continued along, silent per usual save for the occasional animalistic noise and a few murmurings of the words ' _whore'_ and ' _slut'._ Never anything more, that was what Kenny had come to live with and expect.

But words were the last thing on his mind as his hips shot forward and his vision enclosed in darkness exploded into an array of white and blue, his body rocketing with adrenaline and his mind just barely able to comprehend the ecstasy. His body fought to regain control of his muscles as Craig let out a few heavy groans before the feeling of warmth suddenly pushed into the boy.

Craig let go of him and Kenny fell forward onto the mattress, panting and gulping down mouthfuls of air. Craig stabilized himself overtop of the blonde before exhaustedly pulling out of him, grabbing a towel from the nightstand and throwing it down onto Kenny's bare ass. "Clean yourself up," he managed to work out past the heavy breathing.

Kenny creaked open an eye and chuckled softly. "And who says I don't wanna savor the feeling of ya for a while, big guy?" he fluttered his lashes mockingly and Craig scoffed.

"Your ass when it starts itching like a motherfucker," he replied blatantly, flopping down onto the bed beside him on his back.

"Oh, ya sweet talker, you," he rolled his eyes, reaching down and cleaning himself off, tonguing in disgust at the feeling of the escapees sliding down his inner thighs. He finished and handed the towel off to Craig for him to finish wiping off his hand. Craig threw the towel down beside the bed and flickered his eyes down towards the blonde and snorted at his exhausted expression.

"One round and you're out? Jesus, McCormick, you're not really living up to your whore status you know."

Kenny opened his eyes, his mouth closing as his brow furrowed. "Fuck you, I'm not a whore."

"Your ass begs to differ," he commented, smacking it a bit and laughing at Kenny's disposition. Kenny sat up with a deep breath, grabbing his cigarettes from the nightstand and beginning to light one up. "Hey, cool it, McCormick, my parents will flip a shit if they smell smoke up here," Craig growled. "Go to the window."

"Yes, Master," he seethed, slowly sliding off the bed and moving over to slide open Craig's window. He lit up his smoke and leaned against the wall, staring out into the dark night.

"What's your problem?" Craig sighed.

"Nothin'."

"Obviously. Did I hurt your feelings calling you a whore?" he taunted, sitting up on the edge of his bed and rubbing his eyes tiredly. Kenny looked towards him, taking in full view of his naked body and couldn't help but shudder. Craig was handsome to be sure. Fuck he was gorgeous when it came down to it. But just not Kenny's type by a long shot. Craig was a nice body attached to an asshole of a head, and a mouth that never seemed to know how the fuck to compliment someone or just shut the fuck up when the time was right. Unfortunately, he was the only one who seemed willing enough to open up to Kenny like this. "Well?" Craig insisted. Kenny shot his eyes back up to meet an agitated gray stare and just sighed again.

"No. I'm just tired."

"Well I would be, too after fucking a sex god like myself," he scoffed.

"Yeah. Sex god. Right," he rolled his eyes, smirking at him playfully.

Craig's expression remained stoic as he focused on the blonde ashing on his windowsill. "What's up your ass? Seriously."

"Since when do you care?"

"Well excuse me for expressing an interest," he threw up his hands exasperatedly and threw himself back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling tiredly. Kenny looked from him out back towards the outside and took a heavy breath, rubbing his head against the wall.

"We're pathetic," he said quietly.

"What?"

"I said we're pathetic. We can't find anyone so we fuck each other like two bit hookers," he let out a sigh.

Craig groaned, dragging his hands over his eyes exhaustedly. "McCormick, why the fuck do I only seem to get you on the days that you're on your period?"

"I'm serious, Craig," he insisted, pacing lightly along the window, his bare feet scraping along the carpet in a soft _swish swish_. "We're pathetic n' alone n' we just fell into each other by default."

"Look, I'm not seeing the problem here," Craig raised his brow. "Dude what's wrong with being a single guy who has sex pretty much whenever the fuck he wants? I think your estrogen is showing. Besides, I thought that for years you considered yourself to be 'King of Intercourse' around school. Bragging about this and that and who and where and whatever."

"Yeah but that was because I was the only one doing that," Ken smirked. "Now that everyone is gettin' laid it just ain't as much of a proud moment. Hell, even Cartman gets in the sack now n' again."

"I thought we all agreed hiring hookers doesn't count," he scoffed.

"Well then I guess you're not on my list anymore, Tucker."

Craig threw a pillow at his head and rolled his eyes. "Look there's nothing wrong with just having sex because we fucking feel like it. If people think it's a problem, fuck 'em. If you think it's a problem, then fine, I can always find someone else to mess around with."

Kenny looked at him for a moment, taking a heavy inhale of his cigarette with his lips curling thoughtfully. "No, I don't really want to lose the sex. I just don't particularly want it with you."

"And I don't want it with you, either. Why the fuck do you think we don't face each other, Idiot?"

Kenny pulled a strand of his light hair. "I always figured that from the back I'm some kind of masculine Tweek to ya."

The faintest tinge brushed Craig's cheeks before he scoffed again. "No, I just like being able to slam your head down into a pillow so you'll shut the fuck up now and again."

"Oh, Craig, I do believe that was the sweetest thing ya ever said to little ol' me," Kenny smiled and fluttered his lashes.

"Don't get used to it, Assfuck," he grimaced. "I don't know what the hell you think is wrong with being single and gettin' laid though. If you get into it with a certain Jew, who I _know_ you're thinking about every time I touch your dick," he raised his brow as Kenny shifted uncomfortably, "you probably wouldn't get laid for a hell of a long time."

"Oh please," Kenny ashed and took another drag, "Stan got Kyle into a bed for the first time in three days after they started datin', I could do it in three hours."

Craig raised his brow. "Three days? Did Kyle tell you three days, seriously?"

"Well...yeah? We tell each other everythin'," he shrugged.

The black-haired boy stared a bit unbelievingly. "Well, that's not what Marsh was bragging about before they announced that they were goin' out," he laid on his back, hands behind his head.

Kenny cocked his head, "The fuck are you talkin' about, Tucker?"

"Dude, about two weeks before they started dating, Stan and Kyle got drunk at one of Token's parties and had sex on his kitchen counter. Did you seriously not know that?"

The blonde blinked a few times. "No...That's not true because Kyle told me that he wasn't going to put out for anyone, not even Stan."

"That's the party when you asked him to go over to your house, isn't it?" Craig sat up and stared him dead in the eye in a way that sent unpleasant shivers down Kenny's spine. "The one where he told you that he wasn't interested in anybody whatsoever and wasn't going to degrade himself as to have sex like that without being in a committed relationship first?"

"Yeah, yeah, Craig I was the one fuckin' gettin' shot down you don't have to reiterate it for me!" Kenny snapped. His blue eyes shot down to the floor, scanning it as if some magical truth would appear through the timber wolf carpeting. He looked over towards Craig's desk and strode over, grabbing his jeans that were tossed carelessly over Craig's computer monitor in the midsts of their plans. He fumbled through his pockets, grabbing his phone out and letting his cigarette bounce between his lips as he slid into his message screen.

"What are you doing?" Craig asked.

Kenny shot him a heavy glare. "I'm askin' Kyle what the fuck he's trying to pull over me."


	4. Moving Through the Grapevine

A soft cry of pain escaped painted lips as bristles struggled through thick, curly blonde hair. "Damn, Wendy, stop trying to pull out my hair!"

"Oh, Bebe, you always know that this is what happens when we attack this rat's nest," Wendy teased, patting her head lovingly. "If you would straighten it more often, it wouldn't be like this all the time."

"Yeah, says the girl with barely any curl," she rolled her eyes, flipping through Cosmo and taking a sip of her Fresca as Wendy continued to bear down on the brush. "You have no _idea_ how hard it is to make it so my hair doesn't frizz and freak out." She winced as another knot was found, grunting in pain as her friend tore through it.

Wendy took a deep breath, grabbing a scrunchie from her dresser and tying her own long, black hair into a messy bun before returning to the blonde abyss. "Sweetie, we're gonna need a stronger brush," she chuckled.

"That brush cost me forty dollars it better damn well work well enough," Bebe pouted, flipping the page again. "Oh hey, look, Wends. 'Pleasing your man using only your nipples.'"

"Let me guess. Step one, reveal them. End of list," she scoffed.

"Pretty much," she laughed. "God this thing is so stupid, I love it."

"Have you ever used any of that stuff with Clyde?"

"Clyde? Oh god no, we broke up, remember?" Hazel eyes found Wendy's in the mirror. "Like, a month ago. I'm with Token now."

"Whoa whoa what about never dating your bff's ex?" she pushed her lightly.

Bebe raised a perfectly tweezed brow at her. "Wendy, that was fourth grade. Does that really count? Were you putting out even then, you slut?"

Wendy smacked her with her brush, a smirk playing over her fine lips. "Okay, okay, I guess I'll let it go this once."

"Well thank you, kind Ladyship," she rolled her eyes, smiling still as she looked back down at the paper in her lap. "And anyway, no, I've never tried this stuff with anyone. I mean, listen, 'To really make your man moan your name, ride him as he's lying on the bed, groping every bit of him and rubbing over his nipples. Play with his hair while doing so and moaning _his_ name and, of course, telling him how big he feels,'" she snorted. "I mean, I don't think these people have _ever_ gotten laid."

"Really! When you're on top, you're focusing on keeping your balance and making it good for yourself, screw whoever is under you!" Wendy scoffed.

"Yeah really, I have enough trouble keeping myself upright with Token, Jesus Christ," Bebe smiled mischievously.

"Is it true, Bebe? Will you ever go back from our Token Black?" Wendy paused, smirking at her.

"If things don't work, I will. But...goddamn. It'll be one hell of a transition to lower my standards again," she laughed before Wendy joined her and they resumed to their tasks at hand.

Bebe jumped a little and stared at her hip, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her cell phone. She scanned over it while Wendy focused on a spot of her hair, slowly working to untangle the ends.

"Who is it?" she asked mindlessly.

"It's Annie. Clyde apparently was told by Stan that he and Kyle are fighting, and Kenny's getting to be in the middle of it."

"Are Clyde and Annie dating now?"

"Well, fucking, yes. And before you ask, no, I'm not mad at her for fucking him after me. I really couldn't care less who's giving it to who as long as no one touches my current men."

"Men?" Wendy raised her brow.

Bebe glanced back at her a moment and shrugged, "I kind of still have my crush on Kyle. I kinda sorta hate Stan."

Wendy stilled and stared up at her. "If you liked him, why did you break up with him?"

"Because he wasn't really into it and I could tell," she shrugged, turning back around and slinking a bit into her chair. "I could see that we weren't the most compatible match so I decided to cut it short and sweet so neither one of us was just doing the other a favor by going out with them, ya know?"

"In a way, that was noble," she patted her shoulder, going back to work. "I hate Stan, too, as you well know," she said with a sneer to her voice. "Bastard dumps me to go be butt-buddies with Broflovski."

Bebe glanced at her in the mirror sympathetically, "That was a dick move but face it, you weren't happy to begin with. And he broke it off a few weeks before they started dating."

Wendy hmphed, her dark eyes following long cascading curls as she sighed. "I know. And honestly, I don't miss the bastard. I don't know why I stayed with him as long as you did."

Bebe scoffed, throwing the magazine onto the dresser and staring up at her. "Oh please, you miss the fuck out of him. You two were on and off for ten goddamn years."

"Well there's a reason it went 'off' so many times," she muttered.

"Because you hate the idea of committing yourself to any man?" she folded her hands and smirked.

"No, because I wasn't fond of the idea of committing to _that_ man," Wendy replied, pulling back from her hair. "Okay, I think it's as good as we can get it," she remarked.

Bebe swished her brushed curls over her shoulder, gently running her fingers through the soft, detangled bliss and sighing contently. "I always think I should cut this mess off but goddamn I love my hair."

"We all do," Wendy smirked, falling back onto Bebe's bed. She nuzzled down into the red comforter as her friend sat next to her, petting her head soothingly.

"What's wrong, Hon?" Bebe asked softly.

"I don't know...," she responded blankly, watching the twirling of the ceiling fan above them. She inhaled and couldn't help but feel a smile twinge on her lips. She loved the smell of Bebe's room. She'd spent years over here, and the scent of vanilla and lavender was always prevalent amidst various odors of hair sprays and perfumes.

"Yes you do," the blonde broke off her contentedness. "You hate the fact that Stan is with someone who isn't you."

She looked into hazel eyes and her mouth formed into a small pout. "Well...," she sat up, pulling her hair out of it's bun and letting it fall gently over her shoulders. "Did he have to get with Kyle of all people?" she said quietly.

Bebe blinked, "You love Kyle though, you always thought he was a good person."

"And that's the problem," she emphasized. "Look if he'd gone out with...I don't know...Kenny or Millie or any other person known for putting out and that alone, I wouldn't have minded so much. But..."

"But Kyle can make him happy," Bebe nodded. "He's actually somewhat stable."

"Exactly. I don't like the idea of Stan being happy. Well, not like that I mean I hope he would be someday...but not in my face," she growled.

Bebe patted her before standing and walking over to her nightstand, "It's an act," she said nonchalantly, reaching into the second drawer and pulling out a bag of chocolates, tossing them beside her friend.

Wendy blinked, reaching in and pulling out a caramel-filled sweet, "Whaddya mean?"

Bebe smirked, standing in front of her with a candy in hand. She tossed it back and forth between her delicate fingers and began pacing in front of her slowly. "They're not happy," she shook her head. "Think about it, they've been best friends since what, pre-school, before that?"

"Yeah...," she nodded, hoping Bebe had a goddamn point because this wasn't exactly making her feel better.

"Have you noticed that they're not quite so best-friendsly anymore?" she quirked her brow, popping the candy into her mouth.

Wendy furrowed her own, looking down around the floor. "I...I don't know what you mean," she looked back up at the blonde. "Every time I see them they're laughing or whatever."

"Stan might be laughing, but Kyle? Kyle not so much," she said definitely, leaning with her arms crossed against her dresser. "He's as unhappy as you were with Stan."

"You think so?" she asked, "how do you figure?"

"Okay well one, the text Annie just sent," she waved her phone in the air a bit. "And we both know Kyle. We both know Stan. They're _great_ at being best friends but...a terrible couple," she shook her head. "They're finally out of the honeymoon phase and Kyle is starting to realize that he fucked up."

"Why wouldn't they be a good couple though?" Wendy raised her brow, chewing her candy thoughtfully. "I mean, I don't want to defend them or anything because God knows I hate it, but, why wouldn't they click?"

Bebe shrugged, "Stan is an idiot and Kyle is too stubborn to admit that he fucked up. That's why you two didn't work, isn't it?" she looked at her accusingly.

"Well Stan didn't really work for the relationship...," she bit her lip.

"Exactly. And you know that our favorite little Jew won't take that. He thinks relationships are supposed to be equal, which, let's face it, he's right they should be. Stan's never been willing to work for it, not since he got you back the first time," she said.

Wendy opened her mouth before it slowly shut itself. She couldn't argue with that, Stan was much more interested in playing sports or video games or, frankly, hanging out with Kyle more than he was stabilizing any relationship with her.

"Face it, Doll," Bebe continued. "You may say you don't like Kyle for stealing Stan, but you two are _exactly_ alike. Honestly it was one of the reasons I couldn't keep up the relationship with him," she chuckled. "I couldn't stand the thought of dating you."

"Hey now I'm fantastic and you'd be damn lucky to have me," she smirked.

Bebe shook her head with a smile, "Think about it for a minute. Stan and Kyle? They're just like us. We know each other's secrets, and I mean the darkest ones," she raised her brows at her. "We know each other inside and out and are perfectly aware of how one should be able to function in a relationship. There's no room for doubt with us, and you know that there's none for them."

Wendy nodded, a thoughtful look over her face. "When did you become the relationship guru?" she asked teasingly.

"Since everybody thought I gave a fuck about their problems and started texting me at every goddamn squabble," she rolled her eyes. "I'm tired of being stuck in the gossipy cheerleader category."

"But you _are_ a gossipy cheerleader," she pointed out.

"Only to you and a very select group of people who I know keep their mouths shut," she pouted. "And come on, the last text was about both of our exes, it's nice to keep tabs on them, ya know?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "Though from the sounds of it, they may be each other's exes if they keep this shit up."

"Not gonna lie," Bebe said, grabbing her phone and flipping to Annie's message. "For Kyle's sake I hope he breaks it off soon."

"Why for his? Why not Stan's?" Wendy asked.

Bebe's fingers flew across the touchscreen, typing back ' _Well we knew this was coming. But why is Kenny getting involved? Whose side is he on?'_

"Bebe!"

"Huh?" she looked up and blinked at her dark hair friend on the bed.

"Why not for Stan's sake," she repeated, the words seething off her tongue.

Bebe shrugged, "Because Stan can jump back from any break up pretty fast anymore. Kyle is getting too invested for his own good. And you just _know_ he thinks he has to keep this relationship going or else he'll lose not only his boyfriend...,"

"But his best friend, too," Wendy said softly. "Oh boy. Yeah, we are _never_ dating."

"Not gonna lie, that is kind of relieving," Bebe laughed.

"Should we try to help the two of them?" Wendy said, not quite sure of why. God knows she didn't want Stan to be happy, or upset, really she didn't want him to be anything. "Who knows them better than us?"

"Well Ken for one," she smirked.

Wendy nodded, feeling a bit stupid at that. "Yeah but isn't he a bit more biased towards Kyle?" she asked.

"Yeah, but you know he'd try to help him see what's right to do," Bebe pointed out.

"True," she mused. "But maybe we should help the two idiots out a little. I mean, they obviously need a push in the right direction."

"More like thrown off a goddamn cliff," she rolled her eyes. She felt her phone buzz and looked down, her eyes scanning and her mouth dropping bit by bit.

"Bebe?" Wendy sat up, "What is it?"

The blonde finished reading and looked up, blinking slowly. "So...Kenny may have more than a _little_ bias. You won't _believe_ what Annie just told me."


	5. Internecine

Five A.M was just way too early for Stan's taste. He groaned as he dragged his ass out to his car and fumbled with his keys, trying to find the button to unlock it in the cold dark morning. He hit the panic button and jumped as the car sprang to life, the siren going off like someone was stabbing the damn thing. He yelled in frustration as he pressed the button again, rubbing his head as the silence of the day came back, the echo of the alarm fading off into the distance.

He managed to unlock it finally and sighed, throwing his backpack into his back seat along with his duffle bag for his football gear. He absolutely _loathed_ early morning practice. How on earth they thought that any right-minded teenager would be ready to go so damn early in the morning was beyond him. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he sighed, taking it out as he walked towards the driver's seat.

' _Can you pick me up? -Clyde'._ He rolled his eyes. He'd been picking up Clyde nearly every morning for the past few months of practice. It was part of the routine by now, but Clyde asked him every damn time.

' _For the millionth time, yes. I'll be there in a few."_ He shut off his phone and shoved it back into his pocket as he climbed into his seat. He shivered at the cold of the leather seats behind him, putting his key tiredly into the ignition and listening to it start. He sat back a few moments, waiting patiently for the defroster to work on the small glistening of ice settled on his windshield.

His mind wandered through the day, his practice, his math test, wondering what the hell they would have for lunch today...He ran through it all before hitting a roadblock: Was Kyle still angry at him? He had _no_ idea what he would be so angry for. He knew that Kyle wasn't happy about the girl comment he'd made two nights ago, but they _always_ talked to each other like that. Was Kyle taking it more seriously now that they're in a relationship?

He shook his head. No, no Kyle wasn't that sensitive. Stan had called him an ass-ramming motherfucking cunt not a week ago and Kyle did nothing more than retort his own "witty" name back. He wasn't ever the sensitive guy, at least, not in those matters.

He leaned his head into his hand, using his free one to run the windshield wipers and watch the melting ice slowly scrape off. He'd tried like hell the night before to get Kyle to call or text him, only to be answered with a ' _I'm busy studying, I'll talk to you tomorrow.'._ Stan almost couldn't believe he'd read that, Kyle usually made at least a little time for him, even before they'd started dating. He'd maybe talk to him for five minutes or so or come over to Stan's house to study together. He'd never had the redhead blow him off like that, so this was completely new territory. And he had no idea what to do about it.

The windshield finally cleared up enough that he buckled up and shifted into drive. He tiredly glanced around before pulling out into the street heading towards the Donavons' house. Would Kyle actually talk to him today? Did he just need the time to stew and get back to how he usually was? Stan had no fucking idea.

He yawned, rubbing his eye and trying to stay focused on his drive. He couldn't wait for football season to just be over. Given he had a summer training camp he went to every year, not to mention the team always met up at least twice a week for their own weight training, but they did that whenever the fuck they all felt like it, none of this ass-crack of dawn nonsense.

He glanced over to the row of houses, seeing Clyde standing at the end of his driveway waiting for him. Stan couldn't help but feel some relief that their town was so damn small, it meant that Clyde was a close distraction from all the bullshit relationship drama that he wasn't even aware he was in.

He pulled up and waved to Clyde, who smiled, opening the back door and throwing his bags in with Stan's. "Hey, Dude."

"Hey," he smirked, watching as Clyde climbed into the passenger seat and fastened his seat belt over his shoulder.

"So, what's up?" he asked, brushing his brown hair out of his eyes.

"Eh, not much," he shrugged, pulling back onto the street. "Same as usual, not wanting to go through with practice again."

"I tell you every day that it's optional," he snorted.

"Maybe for you, my dad would literally have a full-ranged meltdown if he found out his son stopped playing football," he rolled his eyes. "You know, 'protecting the honor of the family' or some bullshit like that."

"Hey, he's the most supportive parent at the games," Clyde chuckled.

"If by supportive you mean rips off his shirt and throws beer cans at people, then yeah, he wins," Stan muttered.

He laughed again and looked at him thoughtfully, "So, you and Kyle still fighting?"

So much for the distraction.

"I...guess?" he shrugged. "Like I told you last night, I have no idea what the hell he's going on about."

"Maybe he's on his period."

"I won't lie, I considered stealing Midol from the medicine cabinet today to give to him as a joke, but he would've kicked my ass."

"I can totally see you walking into school with a black eye and a broken arm and everyone thinking it happened at football," Clyde smirked, "But then you'd have to tell everyone 'No it was Kyle. I was a bad boy.'"

"Oh shut up," he elbowed him lightly. "Nah, Dude, I really don't know what's up his ass. We were fine the night before. I mean we had a little fight that lasted all of twenty seconds but nothing else."

"Well what was it about?" he asked, leaning back and watching the road.

"...It's kinda personal," he muttered.

"Ah, someone isn't satisfied in the bedroom then, hm?" Clyde said. "Which one of you is it?"

He was silent for a few moments before letting out a heavy breath, "Actually, I think it's both of us."

Clyde looked over and leaned his head back a bit, staring at him, "Seriously?"

"Yeah," he nodded, coming to a stop and staring up at the red light in front of him. "I mean, I didn't think it was bad until last night after he blew me off when I tried to talk to him."

"See that's what I prefer people to do, don't let me talk, just blow me," he cackled.

"Dude, seriously?" he looked at him unamused. Clyde waved him on with little laughing 'sorry's'. "I don't know, Man. I _thought_ I was happy with where we are but after last night I did a lot of thinking and...I don't know anymore."

"Well it could just be something like, you know, you need to spice it up or something?"

"This is seriously not a guy conversation," Stan shook his head and laughed lightly, pulling through the intersection.

"It is," Clyde nodded. "We just don't do it as much, at least, not publicly."

"True," he mused. "I just don't know what the hell it is that Kyle wants."

"Did he say anything in that little squabble of yours?"

"Okay he did but that is one thing that I absolutely will _not_ share with you," he said sternly, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly.

Clyde sat for a moment silently, watching Stan tense and his face turn red in the light of the dashboard console. "I'm...guessing it's something that you are not willing to do?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Hm, well then you have two options," he shrugged. "You either suck it up and get it over with, or you tell Kyle no fucking way, have him be angry, and then you end up breaking up and lose your best friend."

"You really think that he'd break up with me over something about sex?" Stan raised his brow. "Kyle isn't that superficial."

"Maybe not normally, no. But people are different in a relationship, Dude. Remember me and Bebe went out for that long while?" Stan nodded. "I thought that she was, you know, a cheerleader. She was outgoing and bubbly or whatever and I thought...well..."

"You totally thought she was a giant slut, didn't you, you prick?"

"...Yeah. Yeah I did. But she wanted _commitment_ before anything. Plus I learned she's actually really shy and really quiet and isn't all that interested in talking behind people's backs."

Stan chuckled, "Sounds like Kyle."

"Dude, yes," Clyde nodded. "Bebe and Kyle are a _lot_ alike...sort of. Except Kyle's a giant nerd and Bebe's head cheerleader, but, you get what I mean. Behind closed doors, they're right there with each other."

"Then why didn't they last as a couple?" Stan asked. "Ky never really told me what happened."

"Well aside from the fact that he's a raging homo? Who knows," he laughed softly. "Probably too similar."

"Well, that's not our problem," he retorted. "Kyle and me are similar but way different, even behind closed doors. I actually like talking to people and he likes to hide away with a book."

"He's always been like that though," Clyde pointed out. "He's not going to change just for you."

"But isn't a relationship _supposed_ to be about give and take?" Stan asked.

"Well...are _you_?"

The question stopped Stan in his tracks. Well fuck. Was he? His mind fleeted over their last few dates, and about Kyle's talk from the last night they spent together. He had no idea what all that was supposed to entail. He'd bought dinner for them, did that count? Well Kyle paid the next night so that broke it even, right? He stared at the road in front of them and blinked slowly. He'd never really thought about it that way, "I...I thought I was..." he drawled out as they neared the high school.

"Dude, if you have to think about it, you're fucking it up," he said flatly.

Stan's shoulders drooped and he pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I have no idea what the fuck is going on anymore. I'm not cut out for this drama bullcrap."

"Well no one actually is," he shrugged, staring at the school as they turned towards the parking lot. "But we all have to deal with it."

He heaved a heavy sigh, the two of them sitting in silence as his car slid into a parking lot and he slowly turned off the ignition. "You okay?" Clyde finally asked. "It's just a little fight, Dude, I'm sure Kyle will get over it."

"I think I fucked up."

"Whaddya mean?" he blinked. "You figure out what you did to make him upset?"

Stan leaned back against his seat and stared up at the clothed interior above him. "No. I mean I fucked up agreeing to date him."

"What?!" He exclaimed. "Dude, are you fucking kidding me? You two have been together for like, almost a year and you're just now thinking you're in too deep?"

He looked over at him and shrugged, "I dated Wendy for ten years and broke it off with her."

"Yeah, _for Kyle,"_ he emphasized. "You're going to end up alone if you keep doing this, Man."

"It was just so much easier when we were just friends, ya know?" he winced. "We had occasional fights but it was nothing that cooling off some steam wouldn't fix. Now we have to be careful about _everything,"_ he groaned. "You know how they say 'marry your best friend?'

"Yeah..."

"I couldn't do that. I love Kyle, I really do but something just doesn't feel right. I wish I could just go back in time and stop this bullshit before it ever happened," he rubbed the bridge of his nose in aggravation.

Clyde sat in silence a few moments before clearing his throat. "Uh, Stan?"

"What?"

"How...long have you been feeling like this?"

He looked over at him tiredly, "It's been like...four months now."

"Really? You haven't said anything to him for four months?" he quirked his brow and shook his head. "You're a fucking idiot, Marsh."

"I know."

"You're getting in way too deep for either one of you and that's not fair for you or him."

"I know."

"You have to break it off, then," he scoffed.

"Yeah that's so fucking easy," Stan sneered. "Dude, he's my best friend. In the whole fucking world. I can't break his heart like that! I can't lose him so I just have to stick this out and hope that he's the one who comes to the conclusion that this isn't working."

"This sounds like a really shitty sitcom," Clyde muttered. "You need to actually _talk_ to him."

"Look, Dude," Stan said, starting to get out of the car. "You don't get it, okay? This is fucking complicated as hell. I don't want to lose the most important person in my life because I'm feeling weird, all right?"

Clyde got out with him and they stared at each other over the roof of the car, "You're going to end up making it worse."

"Take that advice and shove it back into the _Cosmo_ you found it in," he scoffed. "This is why dudes don't talk about this shit, all right?" he snapped, reaching in and grabbing his bags before slamming the door shut,

"I was only trying to help..."

"Yeah, well, help yourself to a new ride Monday," he gritted his teeth, turning away from the car and leaving Clyde standing there dumbfounded. He stomped angrily over towards the gym's entrance, shoving into the door and making his way down towards the locker room. He glanced around, finding he the first one there and breathed a sigh of relief. He couldn't deal with other people at this moment. He slowly sat his bags down, beginning to strip down to put on his gear.

His fingers brushed over the back of his ear as he stripped off his t-shirt and he shuddered. Kyle kissed him there all the time, he fucking loved it. Somehow Kyle had managed to find all of his soft spots in a matter of days when they started becoming more intimate. It was an amazing start, and felt like the high would never end...His heart sank slightly as he sat down on the bench and placed his head in his hands.

He had no idea what was coming over him. He loved Kyle. He loved to be with him all the time. The sex was pretty great, though the afterglow not so much anymore. Kyle seemed to be growing...distant in a way. He didn't laugh as much with him anymore, he just sat in his room reading or whatever while Stan played video games. They completely ignored each other for the most part which, while they were just friends was fine, but now? Wasn't it supposed to be a least a little different now?

Maybe the line between best friends and boyfriends was a little too thin, because it seemed to Stan that they were doing nothing more than walking a tightrope, swaying from one side to the other, neither of them sure exactly which one they would land on.


	6. Tatters

Kyle's hands fumbled through his tangle of curls, still seeped with sweat and matted down from his restless sleep. He stood in front of his mirror, his lips quirking into a pout as he noticed that the dark rings under his eyes had become more prominent. He sighed, grabbing his brush and quickly trying to fix the absolute disaster of copper sitting atop his head. Every single morning he had the routine of considering the cost that it would be to get his hair chemically straightened, but he knew that his mom would most likely string him up by his throat if he dared tried something like that.

He managed to fix up what he could before stripping off his pajamas and grabbing his clothes laid out neatly on his desk chair for school. As he pulled on a pair of hunter green tight jeans, he bit his lip. Stan always said his ass looked amazing in them.

Stan...

He groaned, looking up at his ceiling as he struggled to pull the denim up around his slender hips. He had no idea what to do at this point. He knew that he had to talk to Stan about how he felt...but fuck, he hated discussing his feelings like that. When he imagined their relationship, all this bullshit going on was something he thought the two of them would never have to go through. They were so goddamn close, they already knew everything about each other, it's not like there was some Earth-shattering secret lingering above them in a dark cloud of chaos waiting to happen.

So why was it so hard?

He finally managed to snake his pants up around him and buttoned them, throwing on his t-shirt and placing his green hat comfortably upon his head. He glanced into the mirror once more, pulling out some of his bangs so they hung comfortably over his face. He glanced over at his nightstand, grabbing his phone from the charger. He opened it up, finding notifications galore.

A text from Cartman telling him not to forget to bring snacks to his party tonight. Another from Bebe of all people, asking him if he's doing okay. He scrolled, finding four missed calls from Stan and his heart sank lightly in his chest. He really shouldn't be ignoring the boy, he knew that. But something about talking to him really just set his hair on end. Maybe it was just the dread of the inevitable fight. Kyle was smart enough to know that once they started, it was only a matter of time before one or both of them got hurt over the subject matter.

It was just not something to look forward to.

He scrolled once again, quirking his thin brow at a message from Kenny, _'You and I need to fucking talk.'_

He racked his brain over the anger he could feel from the message. Had he said something wrong? Was Ken just drunk again? Was he caught up in the rumor mill surrounding Stan and his fight? He slid the message bar over, starting to type before he heard a shout outside his window.

"KYLE!"

His head shot over, it was Kenny's voice. He walked over and threw the window open, staring down at the blonde. His face fell into concern, he looked horrible. "Dude, I was about to text you!" he yelled down. "What's wrong?"

"Get your goddamn ass down here right the fuck now!" Ken spat. "You have some goddamn explaining to do!"

"What? Ken what are you-"

"Just get the fuck down here!" he screamed.

Kyle was overrun with confusion and hurt at Kenny's tone. He never got mad at him. What else could he possibly be fucking up at this point?

"O-okay...give me a second," he nodded slowly, backing up and closing his window. His hands rested on the sill for a few moments before he blinked and slowly began walking out of the room. He grabbed his bag from beside his door, hurrying down the steps, only to be greeted by his mother, her arms crossed and her face twisted into an angry scowl.

"Kyle, what is Kenneth doing screaming at you in the yard?"

"I...I don't know, Ma," he replied truthfully.

"Well whatever it is, he better have a good excuse for that kind of language," she huffed.

"I guess I need to go see," he shrugged, beginning to walk to their front door.

"Aren't you going to have some breakfast?" she called out. He paused, grabbing two pieces of toast from the table and smiling softly at her.

"Thanks, Ma, I'll see you after school."

"All right, have a good day, Bubbie. And tell Kenneth not to come around here anymore if he's going to behave like that."

Yeah, that'd make Kenny's anger go away.

He hurried over to the door and threw it open, finding a very angry blonde staring straight into his eyes, his arms crossed and his shoulders heaving in a heavy, angry pant. "We need to talk," he growled.

"A-about what?" he blinked. "I uh...I brought you some toast?" he winced, pushing a piece towards the boy. Kenny didn't move and Kyle gulped. He must have done something _seriously_ wrong. Ken never turned down free food. He pulled the bread back towards himself and straightened up, clearing his throat.

"You _lied_ to me," he hissed.

Kyle cocked his head, his brain replaying their conversation from the day before. "About what?"

Kenny looked over at the window and Kyle followed his gaze, the two of them meeting the dark eyes of Sheila staring at them.

"Ugh," he groaned, grabbing Kyle's arm and hauling him down the end of the sidewalk. "Fucking drive us to school and we'll talk about it. I can't do this with your mom standing there."

"Are...are you wanting to punch me or something?"

"Well to be frank, yes, I am. If you're driving though it might lower my interest in doing so," he glowered.

"All right, all right," he nodded, a part of him fearful for his life. He dropped the toast to the ground, far past any interest in eating, his stomach doing flips as he fumbled with his keys, unlocking his car. They both climbed in and he slid the key into the ignition, gulping and his hands shaking on the steering wheel as he slid out onto the road.

"Okay...what's on your mind?" he asked as they pulled past the house.

Kenny was silent for a moment before heaving a deep, angry breath through flared nostrils. His eyes closed and Kyle glanced over, half scared, half concerned. "Kyle," he started slowly and deliberately. "You wouldn't lie to me, right?"

"Of course not," he blinked. "Dude I've never lied to you. I mean, excluding things like birthday presents or whatev-"

"Shut up, I want short answers from you right now," Kenny snapped.

Kyle could feel the fear rushing out and the anger beginning to build. "You don't fucking talk to me like that," he growled. "Now fucking tell me what the hell is up your ass."

"The fact that you lied to me about how soon Stan was up _your_ ass," he snarled.

That statement made Kyle recoil in shock and confusion. "What...what the fuck are you talking about?"

"When did you and Stan first sleep together?" he asked point-blank.

He blinked, "Dude, I told you. We'd been dating for three days, we got kind of hammered, and it just kind of happened. Hell, I told you that it happened way too soon for my tastes."

Ken was silent for a long, tense moment. Kyle's slender hands gripped the steering wheel anxiously. He had no idea why Ken would be so angry at him for something he'd known for months.

"Funny. I hear it was a lot sooner than that," he said quietly.

"What? Who the fuck told you that?" he looked over at him briefly.

"Craig..."

"Really? You're going to listen to Craig instead of me?" Kyle growled. "Funny, I fucking thought that you'd take it from the actual source of-"

"Who heard it from Stan."

Kyle fell silent, his eyes locked on the road. Kenny mustered up enough energy to look over at him, seeing the redhead's face slowly falling into a muss of confusion and anger.

"What...what did Stan say?" he barely made out a whisper.

"Well I hear tell that you and him fucked on Token's kitchen counter two weeks before you were datin'. Ya know, the night you fuckin' told me that you'd never do such a ' _degenerate'_ thing," he seethed.

The car slowly pulled over onto the side of the road and Kyle's hand slowly moved to the gear-shift, putting it in park in a quiet trance. His hand stayed on the knob, his eyes analytically scanning it, as though it contained his answers.

He finally turned his head up to Kenny and shook it. "That's a lie," he said softly. "I swear, I didn't."

"Well then who was Stan fucking in the kitchen?" he crossed his arms expectantly. "Because it sounds like to me, you did fuck him beforehand, and you felt fucking guilty about it and came over to my house and shut me down because you felt like a fucking slut."

Kyle's brows knit together. "Don't you _dare_ talk to me like that, you fucker," he hissed. "I am fucking telling you the _truth._ "

"Just seems oddly coincidental, doesn't it?" he asked firmly, though Kyle could tell in his eyes that he wasn't nearly as angry as he was making himself out to be. He was wounded. "Stan just _happens_ to say all that went down on the exact same night?"

Kyle's shoulders drooped and he shook his head. "Ken. You know me. You know I don't fucking toy around with people. Besides, I was only at that party for like, a half an hour. You really think I had time to get so smashed I'd sodomize Token's $400,000 countertop?"

"I-"

"If you recall," he interrupted, his tongue dripping with turpentine-laced anger, "I left that party super early because you wanted me to come over to your house to talk. So I fucking did. And yes, I broke your heart, we all fucking know that I am a piece of shit for that."

Kenny's face fell, his eyes scanning over Kyle's and realizing that he'd fucked up. He'd fucked up _bad._

"But fuck, Kenny, I tell you _everything,"_ he shook, throwing the car back in gear and getting back on the road. "I trust you with goddamn everything I possibly can, and you have the goddamn nerve to act like you're the victim in all this?"

"Okay, look, Ky, I just thought-"

"Oh don't you fucking 'Ky' me," he spat, zooming through an intersection with a sharp turn that made Kenny grab onto the door handle beside him in a blind panic. "I know that you like me, okay? I know that you're a sweet guy who would've treated me right or whatever, but that's just not the track that happened, okay? And you need to realize that right now, I'm with that fucking asshole, so I can't exactly just drive us out for a goddamn honeymoon right now."

Kenny's heart skipped a beat. "Wait...right now?" he said in a tiny, hopeful voice. They rolled to a stop at a light and Kyle took a deep breath.

He looked over at the blonde with exhausted green eyes. "Ken. There are definitely days that I regret not going with you. I mean it. Do you know how hard it was for me to actually turn you down? I had a choice, and I made it, and, yeah, maybe I made the wrong one. But at the same time, you and I could have ended up in the exact same place Stan and I are right now. Well, except for one detail," he grumbled.

"What?"

"You never would have fucking told people that I was putting out like that," he muttered. "You actually respect me."

Kenny's face softened, reaching his hand out and putting it on Kyle's arm. "Yeah, I do. I'm so sorry, Kyle. I'm sorry I got so angry without talking to you first."

Kyle let out a humorless laugh, "You know, I would've done the same thing," he looked at him with a small, crooked smile. It fell and he sighed, turning his attention back to the road and pulling forward. "God, what a mess," he shook his head.

Ken was silent for a bit, trying desperately not to focus on Kyle telling him that he regretted not choosing him, though a small flutter of joy couldn't help but erupt in his chest. "What are you going to do?"

Kyle bit his lip and shrugged. "What _can_ I do?" he asked. "No seriously, I'm open for suggestions."

"Want me to kick his ass?" he asked sheepishly.

"No, that pleasure belongs to me," he chuckled. His eyes grazed slowly over the road in front of him, darting now and again towards Kenny. He couldn't help but hate himself a little for telling him that he regretted not going with him. Now if things worked out with Stan, Ken's heart would be broken all over again. If things didn't work with him...he didn't know if he could go through the potential heartache of losing both of his best friends in the same fashion.

This love triangle bullshit was not something that he'd ever envisioned happening to him.

"Kyle..." Ken started softly. "Are you mad at me?"

"No, dude. I'm not," he assured him. "I understand why that would be hard for you to hear."

"No I mean...mad at me for telling you how I feel," Kenny winced, running his fingers through his hair.

Kyle felt a pang of guilt radiate through his chest. "No, Kenny. I'm not mad at you for that. Trust me, I'm flattered. More than flattered. You're a great guy, Dude. If it had made me mad or super uncomfortable, I wouldn't want to hang with you all the time," he shot him a smile. Kenny shifted uncomfortably, looking at the dashboard guiltily. "You should probably have a smoke," Kyle said softly. "Take some of your edge off."

"...Dude it's your car. I'm not allowed to smoke in here."

"Right. It's _my_ car. And I say smoke away because I'm hoping I get a contact buzz."

Ken laughed softly, grabbing his pack from his pocket and rolling the window down. He lit it up and inhaled slowly, letting the sweet nicotine absorb down into his throat. "Did..." he started, staring at the lit stick in his hand. "Did you mean it when you said you regretted not being with me? Or were ya just being nice?"

Kyle was quiet for a moment before replying, "I mean it. But you also know, regardless of how shitty Stan is, I'm not one to cheat."

"I'm not askin' ya to."

"Then you know me better than he does apparently," he scoffed. "Look, dude, shit's just a mess right now, you know?"

"What if...," he started before pausing and taking a deep drag. "Never mind."

"What?"

"No, Dude, it's not exactly appropriate right now," he forced out a small laugh.

Kyle nodded slowly, "You want to know what I'll do if I decide to end it with Stan."

Kenny bit his lip, staring out the window at the pavement rushing by. _'So not cool of you,'_ he thought to himself.

"I'll take that as a yes," he continued. "Ken I really don't know. I feel like, at least for awhile, I'll want to be alone. Stan's such a huge part of my life, cutting him out and just moving on doesn't seem feasible. But you're always gonna be my friend, okay? Regardless of what else happens down the road, I'm not going to just start ignoring you or any drama queen bullshittery like that."

"I appreciate that," he smiled.

"Now, come on, tell me something that's actually good," he smirked. "Because honestly, I'm not comfortable with you being all mopey and quiet," he winked at him.

"Oh? And just how am I supposed to be?"

"Your usual smart-ass perverted self is the reason I like hanging out with you so much," he chuckled.

"Why? Because you're such a prim and proper dickhead and need the balance?"

"There he is," he reached over and shook Ken's knee a bit. "And, to be honest, it's because you're the only stable thing in my life right now. You're pretty constant, but everything else just feels like it's turning on me. It's nice to know that you're gonna be there like the asshole that you are when I need it."

"I aim to please, my dear," he snorted. The both of them finally relaxed into their seats, feeling the wave of anger and hurt finally ebbing out to sea. It was such a nice feeling, they both noticed, the comfort of the two of them together as they were.

They came to the train tracks and stopped in front of the lowered barriers, watching the cars go by agonizingly slow. Ken felt the car shift into park as Kyle reached down into his pocket and pulled out his phone, biting his lip softly. He bobbed his hand a bit, as though he were weighing the small device.

"Kyle?" he asked in concern.

"I'm going to regret this so much," he shook his head, opening up the phone, his eyes scanning down for Stan's name. He pressed call and held it to his ear.

"Dude, he's at football."

"I know," he nodded, waiting patiently for it to go to voicemail.

' _It's Stan, you know what to do.'_ A long beep followed and Kyle took a deep breath.

"We need to talk. Meet me outside in the courtyard after school, not any sooner before...," he looked at Ken who stared back with worried eyes. The look just made Kyle's anger flare through his body, his brain overriding anything but pure, unadulterated fury. "And bring anyone that you've been telling this whole time that I was your fucking whore, you dick," he hissed, bringing the phone down and ending the call, his stomach dropping and his eyes widening as he realized what he'd just done.

"Holy fuck," Kenny stared at him.

"Oh my god...," he shook his head. "I...I don't know what just happened. It fucking just came out!"

"Dude, it'll be okay," Kenny reached his hand over and stroked his shoulder as tenderly as he could muster. But he knew better. They _both_ knew better. Kyle had just opened the floodgates, and now everything was going to be pouring out in a matter of hours. The two of them watched the train barreling in front of them, seeing what few tatters remaining of Kyle and Stan's relationship getting crushed beneath it.


	7. Breaking Point

Kenny's pencil tapped quietly on his notebook as he stared up at the teacher pacing around the front of the room, waving his hands around as he discussed some Shakespearian-era bullshit. He glanced next to him at his table at Cartman, who was making paper footballs and flicking them into Butter's head in front of them. The brunette caught his stare and narrowed his eyes, mouthing 'what?' Kenny just shrugged, heaving a deep sigh.

He couldn't keep his mind off of Kyle. His entire perception felt warped by the events of the past few days. He had no idea what side to root for when it came to Stan and him. He wanted Kyle to be with himself, there was no doubt of that in the blonde's mind. But Kyle was his _best friend._ He wanted him to be happy, even if that meant that along the way he himself would have to just abandon his own hopes about a future with him. He hated seeing the redhead so frustrated and confused about where to go from here. He placed his head down atop folded arms, still watching the teacher with a glaze of complete disinterest. He just didn't know how to feel anymore.

Cartman shoved a paper into his arm and he fleeted his eyes down, reading _'u comin 2nite?'_

He looked up at the glutton and nodded. Cartman's parties were never anything special, but it was a nice break from the monotony. It was a place he could get booze and forget everything for the low low price of letting Cartman call him a poor son of a bitch or whatever overwhelmingly cliche name he could come up with. It was a small price to pay for forgetting all the drama, that was for damn sure.

Cartman shoved the paper back into him after writing again and Kenny lifted his head up, reading the text tiredly. _'Wtf is up with Jew and hippie? they looked like they were about to kill each other at lunch'._

Ken bit his lip. Lunch was a fucking terrible time for them all for sure. Kyle sat with Ken while Stan sat with his football buddies. The both of them kept staring at each other, looking like they were fighting between breaking down, crying and running to each other to apologize like some lame-ass chick flick moment or full-out brawling until one of them couldn't walk again. It was uncomfortable for all parties involved, Kenny could feel how Stan was glaring at himself. He couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. In a way, even if he and Kyle weren't screwing around, he was in all technicality stealing Kyle's attention away from Stan. _He_ was the one that he was working all their problems out with, and Kenny never minded being the rock that held him together, but he could just feel how Stan wanted nothing more than to gut him like a fish.

' _It's a long story, dude,'_ he wrote back. _'they're just fightin'._

Cartman stared before quickly scribbling back a response and shaking his head a bit, _'those 2 pussies aren't gonna make it.'_

' _since when do you care?'_

Cartman looked at him, snorting softly and rolling his eyes, _'I don't. but jewboy is gonna b even more annoying if Marsh breaks his stupid greedy heart.'_

Kenny bit his lip, a part of him acknowledging that regardless of Cartman's demeanor towards Kyle, he was absolutely right. Maybe not so much annoying, but Kyle would be absolutely devastated. He took a long, shuddery breath and glanced at the clock. Two minutes. Two minutes left before school was out and Kyle and Stan would meet up. His mind fleeted over plans. If they broke up, Kenny would be there for Kyle and help him piece himself back together, he'd always said that he would have his back and he didn't intend to start going back on that promise now. If they didn't and ended up making up, he'd slap them both on the backs and tell them how happy he was for them, even if it _would_ start killing him inside again.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly, jumping a bit at the sound of the bell ringing throughout the room. He quickly got to his feet and started stuffing his papers down into his bag. Cartman looked at him inquisitively.

"You think they're gonna break up?" he asked him softly.

He shrugged his bag onto his shoulder and waited for Cartman to gather his own things. "I have no idea. Why? Do you?"

He scoffed, "Fuck if I know. I'm just sick of the two of them acting like they're always on their fucking periods. Mood swings like fucking crazy and it's driving me nuts."

He couldn't help but smirk a little. Try as he might, Cartman could never deny that he didn't pay attention to what was going on in all their lives, even if he _was_ a dick about it. "Whaddya mean mood swings?" he asked as they started walking out of the room together in the crowd of their peers.

He raised his brow at him, "What you didn't notice? Fuck they go from hands all over each other to Kahl gettin' sand in his vagina and now Stan's all pussied out, too. You fucking stand near the two of them and it's like trying to walk through fucking cement the tensions so goddamn thick sometimes."

He nodded, "Yeah. Well...they're gonna be talkin' it out about now," he said softly. "They're meetin' in the courtyard."

"Well fuck, let's go, then," he jerked his head towards the side doors in the hall. "I won't lie, I want to see if it gets violent," he sniggers.

"Well I hope it doesn't come to that," he said dryly. He paused and couldn't help but chuckle, "I am curious which one of them would win in said fight, though."

"Oh, Jewfag for sure," he rolled his eyes. "He'd be too angry to stop. You know how bitches are on their periods. He'd rip Jock-boy's head off before he could say 'save the whales'."

Kenny laughed a bit as they pushed open the doors and found Kyle standing in the middle of the courtyard, his arms crossed and looking down at the ground. "Ky!" he called out. The redhead looked up and waved meekly at the two of them as they approached.

"What're you doing here, Fatass?" he looked at the brunette tiredly, obviously not in the mood to be dealing with Cartman's usual bullshit.

He shrugged, "Wanted to see what the fuck is up with you fags. Heard you two are getting divorced."

"Fuck off," he muttered, shaking his head and running his fingers up under his hat, scratching his hair irritably.

Kenny walked up and put a hand on his shoulder. "Dude, do ya want us to leave?"

He looked up at him and shook his head, "No. No honestly I could use you here for support."

"Aww Jew needs his side squeeze to help him through it," Cartman cooed.

The two of them shot angry glares at him and shouted together, "Shut the fuck up, Fatass!"

He blinked at the surround-sound insult before rolling his eyes. "Fags," he muttered under his breath.

"Anyway," Kyle sighed, looking back at the blonde. "If he tries to say he never said what he did..."

"Hang on," Kenny looked up, seeing Craig and Tweek walking through the doors talking to each other. "Craig!" he shouted.

The boy looked up at him and his face fell sour before he groaned, walking towards the two of them with Tweek in tow. "What?" he glared.

"Dude, can ya chill here for awhile?" he asked softly. "Kyle may need backup for what ya told me."

He blinked, looking at Kenny's hand on the boy's shoulder and back at the redhead's tired gaze. "You two aren't fighting?"

"No," Kyle said thickly. "I can't say the same about Stan and myself, though."

Craig sighed and his shoulders dropped, "Yeah, fine." He whipped out his phone and grumbled, "guess I'll tell Token I'll walk home."

"I-I can take you," Tweek offered meekly.

Craig looked down at him and smirked crookedly, "Thanks, dude."

"No pro-problem AH!" he ticked, shaking a bit in his place.

"Here comes troubleeee," Cartman said lowly, the four of them following his stare and seeing Stan walking up with Clyde and Token in tow. Kyle stepped forward, planting his feet firmly on the ground and narrowing his eyes at his boyfriend. Stan looked guilty for a split second before returning the stare. He walked up and eyed Kenny's hand still resting on Kyle's slender shoulder.

"So," Kyle started dryly. "You wanna fucking start?"

"Start what?" he raised his brow.

"Uh, how about we talk about you telling people you fucked me on Token's counter?" he gestured towards the boy behind him. "Because I'd like to know if that actually happened and you fucking roofied me or if you're just a giant pile of shit."

Stan blinked, "So I fucking said we hooked up, what the fuck is the big deal?"

Kyle stared at him incredulously, Kenny feeling him trembling underneath his palm. "Do you not know me _all_?" he asked through grated teeth. "That wasn't fucking cool, Stan!"

"Oh my fucking god who the fuck cares?!" he gestured around. "Jesus fucking Christ, Kyle, it's not like you were treated like a fucking slut or something!" Kenny caught a glance between Token and Clyde that made him uneasy, tightening his grip on the redhead. Something wasn't right.

"But I don't like the fact that you were so fucking okay with just making shit up about me!" Kyle fumed. "What else did you tell people? Huh? That I'm your fucking subservient little whore or something?!"

"No, I didn't!" he screamed back, letting Clyde gently move him back a little, all the bystanders a bit afraid that the two of them were going to start actually going at it. "That's what we fucking _do,_ Kyle! We fucking lie about how far we got, okay?"

"That's funny because I _don't_ do that," he stewed. "Jesus, you're acting like I fucking made you wait for _years_ before we did anything! Why do you have to be such a fucking douche?!" he shouted.

"Ky, Ky," Kenny said softly, rubbing his back, "It's all right. Calm down."

"Don't you fucking tell him what to do," Stan spat.

"Don't _you_ fucking yell at him!" Kyle pointed back towards the blonde. "He has every fucking right to be here and you don't get to boss anyone around, Stan!"

"Really? He has a right to be here?" he laughed in disbelief. "Funny, I thought that _our_ relationship was, oh, I don't know, between _us?"_

Kyle tongued over his teeth and his eyes were dangerously narrowed, "Well then why did you bring Clyde and Token? Seems to me like you wanted back-up for your stupid ass excuses, too."

He paused, his face falling darkly, "Well I had to have someone here to pick up the pieces if you fucking fell apart because of a little fucking white lie, Kyle. I know how much of a girl you can be about this kind of thing."

"Oh **FUCK** no you did not fucking call me a girl again!" he screamed, starting to move towards him. Kenny wrapped his arm around Kyle's shoulders and held him back.

"Kyle, don't, it's not worth it, Dude. He's not worth it!"

"I don't let _anyone_ fucking talk to me like that and you fucking know it, Stanley!" he screamed, ignoring Kenny's desperate protests and staring him down like a bull to the matador.

"Oh, full name, I'm so scared," he waved his hands in the air sarcastically, his face falling into obvious disinterest. He glanced between the two of them and rolled his eyes. "I can't say I'm surprised that you have _him_ with you though," he jerked his head towards Kenny. "I mean, who _wouldn't_ want to have the person who wants in their pants so fucking bad to be around them all the fucking time?"

The two of them fell still and Kenny looked down at the redhead. "You fuckin' _told_ him?!" He couldn't believe it. Kyle swore he'd keep it to himself to evade any fallout between the group.

"No!" he shook his head. "I never told anyone! Did you?!"

"No I-" he paused, his eyes glancing over to Craig who was scratching his hair nervously and staring at the ground. "Craig," he bit his lip angrily. "Who the _fuck_ did you tell?!"

"Clyde," Stan answered for him, pointing back towards the brunette who was looking just as awkward as his counterpart on the opposing team.

"Jesus fucking Christ, this is the worst soap opera in history," Cartman shook his head a bit.

"You sonnova bitch!" Kenny pulled off of Kyle, turning and pushing Craig a bit.

He glowered and shoved Kenny back. "Fuck off, McCormick! It's not my fucking fault that you want so bad to be buttbuddies with Broflovski!"

"Ya didn't have to fuckin' say a goddamn thing, though!" he seethed. "Fuck, I fuckin' _trusted_ you with that information, you dick!"

He rolled his grey eyes, "Oh boo fucking hoo. Like you aren't fucking _glaringly_ obvious about it anyway."

Kenny straightened up, looking down at Tweek. "Well, Tweek, ya should know that Craig has a boner for and wants to fuck _you_. So, do with that information what ya will," he sneered at Craig, whose face was blanched over, staring daggers at the blonde.

"WHAT?!" Tweek looked at Craig shakily, darting his head around the group. "I...I...too much pressure, too much..." he shook his head and darted towards the school.

"Tweek, wait!" Craig called, turning and quickly rearing his fist back and letting it fly, decking Kenny in the cheek and sending him sprawling onto the ground. Kyle stepped between the two of them and stared the boy down.

"Touch him again," he snarled, "see what fucking happens."

Craig looked between him and back towards the direction that Tweek ran off to, seeing Clyde and Token hurrying behind him. He groaned, glaring at Kenny again before speeding off behind them. The four remaining stood in silence for a few moments, Kyle helping Kenny back onto his feet.

"Thanks," he muttered.

"You okay?" Kyle asked softly, the poison in his voice all but gone for him. Kenny nodded and he gave him a soft smile before it fell back into a scowl, facing Stan standing there alone. "You're a piece of shit, you know that?" he spat.

"How am _I_ the bad guy here?" he twisted his face. "Yeah, okay, I lied about sleeping with you. I'm fucking sorry, all right? But how would you fucking like it if I hung out with Wendy all day? Huh? How would you fucking like it if someone who wanted nothing more than to fuck _me_ was always beside me? How the fuck would you feel?"

"Well that depends," he said thickly, placing his hands on his hips and trying to stand as menacingly as his boyfriend. "If it were _you_ hanging with someone, given your reputation for lying, yeah, I'd be pretty worried. But we're not talking about you, we're talking about _me."_

Stan shook his head at him, his mouth a bit agape in disbelief. "How could I forget? I happen to be talking to a goddamn perfect little angel, aren't I? Little Miss Priss who never does _anything_ wrong," he drawled out, crossing his arms.

"Okay, you better lay the fuck off of calling me 'miss' or 'girl' because I am _this_ fucking close to cleaning your clock!" he spat. "And no, I'm not fucking 'perfect' but you should know me damn well enough that you should be able to fucking trust me!"

"Well _forgive me_ ," he rolled his eyes. "I'm so sorry that I'm uncomfortable with the fact that you're okay with letting Kenny ogle you all fucking day."

Kyle looked at him with a stare that even Cartman could feel seeping fear into his soul. "This. Isn't. About. Ken," he hissed, taking furious breaths between his teeth. "This is about how **you** are a fucking douchebag, Stan!"

"How am _I_ the fucking bad guy here?" he waved his arms around wildly. "What the fuck did I even do to you? You were pissed at me before you found out about what I told people!"

"You don't respect me, Stan!" his glare suddenly fell and his face turned into a desperate sheen of hurt. "You...you fucking think I'm expendable! You act like I don't even fucking matter to you!"

"Of course you matter to me, you idiot," he blinked and raised his brow at him.

Kyle looked at Ken, who nodded slowly. He had to do this. He had to tell him and he had to be strong about it. "I...," he shook his head. "Stan, it's like we're not even friends anymore, let alone more," he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking at the ground tiredly. "And I don't want to fucking lose you but you're fucking pushing me to the breaking point and I don't know what to do." He looked up at him with heavy eyes, meeting another pair staring back at him with a dark blue hue.

Stan was silent for a moment. The weight of it all seeming to crush the four of them into their places. Even Cartman couldn't be bothered to make a smart-ass remark, he and Kenny exchanging worried glances, knowing that the next words could very easily make or break their group.

Stan cleared his throat quietly and the others looked up at him, meeting a heavy unreadable expression. "Kyle...I...I think we need a break," Stan said softly.

Kyle looked up at him and straightened himself out, Kenny watching helplessly as his bottom lip trembled. " _Fine_ ," he said curtly, turning on his heel and walking briskly towards the doors to the school. Kenny turned towards Stan, standing there looking like a dejected fool. The blonde gave him a sharp glare and shook his head.

"You fucked up," he growled before making way to follow behind Kyle. Cartman wasn't far behind, muttering under his own breath. They both turned and stole one more look at Stan, standing with his hand over his eyes, his shoulders heaving in the midst of his solitude.


	8. The Changing Dynamic

Craig's hands were shoved into his pockets as he stomped down the sidewalk towards the Tweak residence. His fist ached from knocking Kenny's jaw, the flesh red from the impact, but he couldn't care less as he felt the denim of his jeans rubbing it nearly raw. This was bullshit. McCormick was fucking going to _die_ for what he fucking did. Craig hated that. He hated being betrayed. He hated that Clyde let it slip to Stan what he told him, he hated that Kenny had completely gone against his own trust. Craig was a simple guy with simple rules in his life: Don't fuck around behind his back and listen to him when he actually spoke.

He thought that maybe he'd found that in Kenny. Shame he was mistaken, he was a hell of a good lay when it came down to it.

He groaned, taking his hands out and ripping his cobalt hat off, scratching harshly through his hair. He had no idea what to even begin to say to Tweek. The over-caffeinated kid was probably holed up in his room downing his fifth cappuccino as Craig walked. He was never one for taking shock news very well, and Lord knew that Craig wanting in his pants was nothing short of a jolt through their group.

He looked up as he approached Tweek's house, finding Token's Mercedes parked on the curb and he sighed, blowing his bangs out of his face. Great. He could safely bet that Clyde was in there, too. Just what he needed, another fucking audience. Token and Clyde knew well about his affection for the blonde, they had for months. But they were true bros to the core, knowing that Craig would make his move when he was damn well prepared. This whole 'on the fly' deal had never been the black-haired boy's style. It wasn't so much methodical as it was just not wanting to deal with overwhelming emotion in a situation. Emotional connection had never quite been his strong suit.

He sauntered up the stairs of the Tweak's porch and sighed again, ringing the doorbell. It opened to show Mr. Tweak in his coffee shop apron. "Hey, Craig," he nodded, stepping aside and letting the boy step into the living room. "Everything all right? Tweek seemed a bit unnerved. I made him a few cups of coffee but it just doesn't seem to be calming him down."

Craig couldn't help but roll his eyes. It's a damn good thing the Tweaks didn't run a drug ring, who the hell knows what they could have possibly addicted their son to in lieu of caffeine. "Some stuff went down, Mr. Tweak," he said tiredly. "He upstairs?"

He shook his head, "Basement. Him and Token and Clyde are hanging out by the espresso machine."

"Thanks," he nodded curtly, making a beeline for the basement door. His eyes flickered to a family picture taken not a year before and couldn't help but feel a twinge of a smirk at Tweek's hyper eye-twitch sealed forever in the moment. Maybe that's why he felt the way he did, Tweek was always a ball of endless energy and sometimes he needed that in his life. It was one of the reasons he and McCormick had hooked up in the first place, the kid never seemed to dwindle down too much and it made for a nice catalyst against Craig's overwhelming exhaustion towards everything.

He slowly opened the basement door, shutting it quietly behind him and creeping down the carpeted steps.

"Tweek, you know that he's not gonna attack you, Dude," Token's voice came from the direction of the couch.

"But what if he does!" Tweek breathed frantically. "Jesus I just ran out and what the hell do I do if he wants to hit me like he did Kenny?!" Craig winced. He didn't know that any of them were witness to that. He sat on the steps and breathed quietly, stroking his thumb over his hat.

Clyde sighed, "You know Craig would never hit you. Look, he's just an idiot, okay?" Craig frowned at the word. "He didn't know how to tell you himself and Kenny just got mad and blurted it out."

"Well what the hell was he doing with Kenny anyway?!"

"They'd been hooking up for awhile," Token said plainly. "From what I can tell, Craig wanted you, Ken wanted Kyle, neither of them could have what they wanted so they just kinda...happened."

As if that weren't the understatement of the century. Craig rolled his eyes, placing his head gently against the wall of the stairwell. He didn't know that Token and Clyde knew about him and Ken at all. He'd tried to sweep it under the radar as best he could but apparently he wasn't quite as secretive as he'd thought.

"But I don't want to be a slut!" Tweek exclaimed. "I don't want to be with someone just because they want to-"

"Dude," Clyde interrupted. "Craig wouldn't hurry you into anything like that and you know it. He told us he wants an actual relationship with you, you know he wouldn't just use you as a fuck-buddy."

A part of Craig sighed in relief. At least they knew his intentions. Tweek could not handle just being somebody's piece of ass, and Craig never wanted that. Hell, he'd be willing to abstain altogether if it meant he could spend more time with the kid. Given he'd never _willingly_ say that to anyone, but he knew himself and Tweek well enough to know that it was a possibility between the two of them.

The clear sound of Tweek hurriedly gulping down his coffee filled the air for a moment before he finally came up for a breath. "Well why didn't Craig just tell me?! I mean, Jesus, he's over here all the time!"

Clyde laughed a bit, "Yeah, you know Craig, dude. He doesn't know how to fuckin' emote."

' _I'm about to emote my fist in your face, Donavon,_ ' Craig thought angrily.

"But...but...GAH!" Tweek flinched and Craig could hear him hit the couch. His shoulders dropped. He really was causing the kid a hell of a time, much worse than his usual episodes. "Craig tells me stuff," he insisted. "Like, secret stuff that he'd never tell anyone else!"

"Oh?" Token asked. "Like what?"

Craig's breath hitched, his mind flooding with memories of telling Tweek how he still visited Stripe's grave out in Starks. How he got so angry at his sister one day that he literally ran away from home. How the reason he could never get rid of his old hat was because it was the last thing his grandpa bought him before he died. He'd told Tweek so fucking much about his life that no other living being had the slightest clue about.

"I-I'm not telling you that," Tweek said softly, his jaw obviously jittering. "He trusted me...I can't do that to him."

Craig's heart beat strongly in his chest with relief and a hint of adoration of the little blonde. Tweek always was much more reliable than the _other_ blonde in his life.

Token sighed, "Look. Craig is a good guy. You know that."

"I know," he answered quietly.

Clyde asked, "How do you feel about the whole thing, though?"

"I...I..." fingernails rapped against his coffee cup. Craig knew that motion. He was nervous, he was thinking, he was plotting his escape route. "I don't want us to end up like Stan and Kyle," he finally sniveled out.

Craig couldn't help but grow furious at those words. That little redheaded fucker was _always_ going to cause him a fucking problem, wasn't he? He couldn't help himself as he leapt onto his feet and trounced down the stairs, the three of them turning back in shock as he made it to the floor.

"GAH! CRAIG!" Tweek screeched his body pivoting on the couch and clinging his coffee cup to himself in a blind panic.

"We would _not_ end up like those two fucktards," he said curtly. "I'm not an oblivious dickhead like Marsh and you're not a weeping little Sally like Broflovski." He made sure not to close in on the boy, staying back towards the stairs knowing full and well that he could send him into a nearly claustrophobic fit should he approach him too quickly. "Tweek, we're _not_ like them."

"Dude, fucking Jesus Christ you almost gave us a goddamn heart attack," Clyde blinked.

"Sorry," he muttered, shoving his hat back on his head and slamming his hands down into his pockets.

"How long have you been there?" Token raised his brow.

He sighed irritably and stared at the ground, "Since Tweek was afraid I'd come and punch him or some shit." He looked up to see Tweek shying behind his coffee cup, his hazel eyes lined with fright that he'd stand up and make that promise. "Tweek," he said as softly as he could manage in his enraged mood. "I would never _ever_ hit you, Dude. You know that."

He just nodded a little, gulping down the last of his coffee and slowly standing up, never breaking from Craig's stare as he shakily poured himself another mug full. "W-why were you spying on us?" he asked softly.

"I didn't mean to," he bit his lip and kicked his shoe against the deep red carpet. "I didn't know what to say...and I didn't know how you were feeling. If you said you hated me or something, I don't know, I probably would have just left," he shrugged. "I didn't mean to," he repeated.

A moment passed between the four of them and Craig's stomach seemed to sink into his legs. They didn't have awkward moments like this. They literally played video games and called each other names. They didn't have 'deep talks' or whatever the fuck kind of shit McCormick so loved to reminisce about with Cartman, Stan, and Kyle. The four in the basement talked, sure, but never to the extent where it felt like it was necessary. This was just too uncomfortable for simple Craig's tastes.

"Do...do you want us to leave?" Token finally broke the silence.

"NO!" Tweek screeched and the three of them looked up at him in shock.

Craig blinked. "Tweek, are you afraid of me?"

Tweek shook his head a bit and gulped down more of his drink, wincing at the heat. Craig sighed, slowly heading over to the freezer and grabbing two ice cubes out, very slowly making his way over towards the blonde. He stood an arm's length away and held the cubes out in his palm. "Here, you don't need to burn your tongue like you did last time," he said softly. Tweek gulped, taking the cubes from Craig and dropping them into his cup, small splashes of the drink marring his mis-buttoned olive shirt. He took another tentative sip and looked back at the boy beside of him. He narrowed his eyes slightly at Craig's expression. It was one he'd almost never seen on him. It looked...pitiable. Like he was stuck and had nowhere to turn towards.

It frightened him a bit.

"I'm...I'm not afraid of you," he shook his head. "I'm afraid of what'll happen after this."

Craig shrugged and stuck his hands back in his pockets, trying to dry off his palm in the confines of his jeans. "Whatever _you_ want to happen, that's what," he said plainly. "Look, Tweek, I'm not here to force you into anything. I'm not going to be a fucking faggot and drop to my knees and hand you roses, I'm not going to beg you to be with me or any of that shit."

Tweek nodded slowly at his words as Clyde and Token leaned back against their respective seats and watched the show unfolding in front of them.

Craig sighed and continued, "I'm also not going to hold it against you if you say no. I'm not going to be like fucking Ken and follow you around like a lost dog because I want to be with you. Everything would be completely up to you. I'm not here to freak you out more than you need. You saying no would change absolutely _nothing_ between us," he promised.

A part of Craig felt like it was dying inside, he'd never talked for this long without someone interrupting him or just not feeling the need to continue. But something inside him was driving him to keep himself going, something about the whole situation just screamed to the boy that everything had to be said, lest Tweek completely misunderstand the situation as he had a tendency to do.

Tweek cleared his throat, sniffing the espresso-laced bitterness in his hands. He dropped his stare down into the cup. "If...If I _were_ to say no, WHICH I'M NOT SAYING I AM!" he panicked.

"Calm down, calm down," Token said softly, using his hands and guiding him through his breathing as the three of them had learned to do when he flew off the handle. Tweek watched him for a bit, following his motions with shaky breaths as Craig nearly lost himself in the cliffhanger he'd been presented with.

"Would you and me not be friends anymore?" he finally squeaked out, looking at Craig with a wince.

Craig couldn't help but smirk at him a bit and shake his head. "Dude. That's a dumb question and you know it. We've been friends for _way_ too long for me to just fucking abandon you for some friggin' hypothetical 'what if' bullshit."

"But will we be like Kenny and Kyle?" he bit his lip. "I...I don't want that. I don't want to be Kyle."

Craig scoffed, "Trust me, you will _never_ be Broflovski. You're smarter than that dumb Jewish piece of shit any day."

Clyde raised his brow, "Kyle's the smartest guy in sch-"

"Not education-wise you dumbass," Craig rolled his eyes. "The idiot can't tell heads or tails where he stands with either of his shitty friends. But I can tell _you,_ Tweek, that we're not going to be like the two of them. Besides, I ain't gonna talk to McCormick again for a long time less I finish what I started," he frowned.

Tweek's tongue passed over his lips and he flitted his eyes between the three of them. "I like Kenny. And I like Kyle. I think they're good people," he said quietly. "They've always been nice to me," he winced a bit, expecting Craig to explode at him for going against his words. He loosened when he saw the boy just looking at him, waiting for him to continue. "I mean...you can't blame Kenny for being like he is," he shrugged. "And right now...I DO feel like Kyle," he took another sip of his coffee.

"How so, Tweek?" Token asked, leaning forward and clasping his hands between his legs.

"Because he's been having a super hard time with the two of them, ya know?" he shrugged briskly. "But he cares a lot about both of them and doesn't want anyone hurt. I dunno...I think he's a good guy," he repeated softly, looking up at Craig.

Craig took a heavy breath and nodded at the ground, "Yeah. Yeah I guess so." The words sounded enough like a rejection to him. The feeling of anguish swelling in his stomach made him nauseated. He just wanted to run up the stairs and never look back. But he knew he couldn't. He fucking knew that he was going to end up like Kenny. Pining for what he couldn't have and driving people nuts with his constant bitching about it.

"But..." Tweek continued and Craig shot his head back up. "I-I don't know," he shrugged, looking towards Craig's feet. "Maybe we can...try?" he winced. "You just have to promise it won't be like them. Y-you have to promise that...that if I agree to this, we won't hate each other. We won't fight like them. We'll still be friends. No matter _what_ happens," he added nervously.

Clyde and Token both jerked back in shock, looking at each other with dropped mouths and wide eyes. That was _not_ what they expected their panicky little friend to say.

Craig stared at him and felt the nausea flitter away from him completely, unable to contain himself from a rare, gentle smile. He walked over, slowly and purposefully showing Tweek every movement he made as he gently wrapped his arm around his shoulders. The blonde gulped and stared up into his grey eyes, worrying that he said the wrong thing, his mind racing in panic before Craig's soft voice quelled nearly every fear, just as it had so many times in the past. "I promise."


	9. Hesitant Interval

Kyle's eyes hazily focused on Kenny's light as he lied on the boy's torn mattress. Their usual vivid spring coloring subdued into nothing more than a deep olive. He was tired. He was hurt. He couldn't make himself get up even if he wanted to. Driving past Kenny's house to his own was too much effort for the poor kid to exert, so he opted to just hang out with him instead. Besides, he really didn't want to be alone right now.

Kenny could do nothing but stare at him, entranced by his complete lack of emotion. Kyle hadn't said anything to him except softly asking if he could hang out at his house. Kenny had hoped that little spark would get the ball rolling, but to no avail. His blue eyes flickered to the clock past Kyle's head as he sat beside him cross-legged on the bed. 5:30. It'd been two hours of this. Just sitting here in silence, letting the awkward tension settle in between the two of them. Kenny knew better, though. He knew that Kyle had to be the one to break the silence. Anything more than that could either make the redhead either extremely angry or maybe even just lead him into a full-scale breakdown.

Kenny hadn't seen that side of him in a long ass time, not since the guy had had an utter meltdown regarding his parents and a possible divorce that hung in the air around them. Luckily, they'd staved that off, but Kenny knew that this wasn't going to be a temporary break between Kyle and Stan. This was going to be a full-fledged 'we're done here' situation. Both of them were way too stubborn to backtrack now, regardless on who was on the opposing side.

He jumped a bit as a soft whisper passed through Kyle's dried lips. "What?" he asked quietly.

Kyle finally turned his head, Kenny's stomach falling guiltily at the complete loss behind his usually proud face. "I'm sorry," he repeated softly.

Ken couldn't help but narrow his eyes confusedly. "What the hell are ya sorry for?"

Kyle sighed, finally propping himself up beside the blonde, sitting cross-legged beside him and staring at him pathetically. "I'm sorry that you got involved in the whole thing. I'm sorry Stan knew. I'm sorry that you're stuck here with me being a whiny bitch about the whole thing."

Ken shook his head. "Let's knock off that list. You two are my friends, I was goin' to be involved no matter what. Stan...well...he knows," he shrugged. "There's nothin' we can do about it now. And lastly," he looked at him with a hardened gaze, "you are _not_ bein' a 'whiny bitch'. What Stan did was uncool. You deserve better than that."

The corner of Kyle's mouth tweaked up if only for a split second. "You mean I deserve better as in you?"

He shook his head firmly, "Ky, I am not goin' to do that to you. You know I just want ya to be happy, Dude. I was more than prepared to congratulate the fuck outta ya if shit worked out with you and that idiot."

Kyle's shoulders heaved in a sigh and he broke his gaze from Kenny's, his finger stroking along the frayed fabric of his mattress. "Ken..." he said slowly, as though in a trance. "I fucked up. I really did."

"No, ya didn't," he said. " _Stan_ fucked up."

"If you were sitting here with him instead, you'd be saying I'm the one that did," he replied quietly. "You're biased, Kenny."

Ken couldn't help but growl a bit, swinging his body around to face the redhead. Kyle looked up at him, shocked at his sound a bit. "Fine. Let's take this from a _non-_ biased perspective," he frowned. "You've been tryin' like hell to make this shit work. I've watched you, Ky. Yeah, you two didn't seem that bad off, but that's because _you_ were the one trying to fight through everything. He never fuckin' budged on anything you needed. He fucking _lied_ about you when he knows you can't stand that kinda shit. Then he has the nerve to be an over-sensitive fucktard because you n' I are hangin' out. He acted like he _owned_ you, Kyle."

Kyle straightened up and bit his lip a bit. "He...he did have a point about the two of us," he gestured between himself and the blonde. "I mean...I guess I'd have reserves if he did the same thing..." his eyes welled up a bit and Kenny could feel his stomach dropping at the sight. "I mean, I'm not going to walk away from you, I told you that before," his voice cracked a tad. "But maybe Stan was right. Maybe I'm just too sensitive about this whole thing. Maybe I need to just accept that I'm too much of a..." he paused, shuddering and gritting his teeth, " _girl_ about this whole thing."

"That! That shit right there!" Kenny said angrily. "Kyle, you don't need to be with someone who fuckin' calls you that when it's a real fuckin' fight! It's one thing if he said it teasin' ya but he _meant_ to hurt you!"

Kyle shifted and bit and shrugged, "I mean...the point of a fight isn't exactly to act all sweet and whatnot. I've said some nasty stuff to people in the heat of the moment, too."

"All right, lemme ask you this," Kenny leaned against his wall and folded his arms together. "When you two were fightin' and he called you that, you said 'you did not call me that _again'_. When did he the last time?"

Kyle blinked at him, his face falling into a deep rouge. "It...it was at...his house...," he bit his lip and looked away shyly.

Kenny could read that look loud and clear, and he couldn't help but feel anger percolating deep in his stomach for his small friend. "He fuckin' called you a girl about sex, didn't he?"

"Like I said, heat of the moment," he said exasperatedly, placing his embarrassed face down into his palm and shaking his head slowly. "Kenny...maybe I am too sensitive. I mean, fuck, shouldn't I have just been happy to be with him? Regardless of the fact he-"

"Nu uh," Kenny interrupted. "Ky, _both_ people have to be happy or it ain't gonna work. You were unhappy and so was he, otherwise he woulda just apologized to you and sat down to work it out."

"But I attacked him!" he protested, flinging his arms out in front of him. "Fuck he came to meet me in the courtyard and I just fucking went for the jugular!"

"And that's the only thing that gets through to Stan," he reminded him. "He's a dense motherfucker. You've been tip-toein' around him for forever, droppin' subtle-ass hints all over the place. You know that don't work."

Kyle leaned back and hit the wall adjacent to Ken's, looking back at the light again and taking a shuddering breath. "Hell, even being direct doesn't work with him sometimes."

"That's why ya did the right thing, Man," Kenny winced. "Look, it hurts now, but it'll get better."

Kyle laughed and shook his head a bit. "Hurts? Fuck, Ken, it feels like someone's fucking flaying me alive right now. I can't lose him," he finished softly, looking back down at the mattress. "I can't lose my best friend...I don't know what I'll do without him."

Kenny sighed, twisting and sitting beside him, looping his arm around Kyle's shaking shoulders. He tensed a bit as Kyle leaned into him, subtly nuzzling into his neck. "You two will still be friends," he assured him. "It may take awhile...but I think you two idiots will come to an agreement down the line. Ya just need to be patient with it."

Kyle chuckled quietly, "You know me, Ken. Patience has never been my best attribute."

He shook him a bit, "Dude, you've been doin' this for seven months. You've waited and waited for Stan to stop being a fuckin' retard. Trust me, I know ya better than you know ya. You're gonna be just fine."

Kyle sighed heavily, taking in the musky scent of Kenny's jacket and leaning further into him. He felt Kenny tensing once again and frowned, leaning back up and giving him a guilty stare. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I...I shouldn't be doing this to you right now."

Kenny scoffed and rolled his eyes, "Doin' what? Needin' a friend? Hell, Dude, I fucking sobbed my eyes out on your shoulder when my Ma was in the hospital. You think I'm offended by you just leanin' on me?"

Kyle winced. "That was...different," he said slowly.

"Because I have a thing for ya?" he shrugged. "Nah, Dude. This ain't a time where that's buggin' me. Right now you are not 'that ass I want' you are fuckin' Kyle, okay? Right now, yer problems are much more important than my feelin's."

He continued to give him a guilty stare, but his lips curled up slightly. "Can I ask you a question? You don't have to answer it if you don't want to."

"Shoot," he shrugged.

"If...if I were to say to you, right now, 'Kenny kiss me' or something, would you do it?"

Kenny blinked in shock at the question, eyeing Kyle's waiting stare with apprehension. He gulped and bit his lip, his heart screaming to just fucking go for it anyway, regardless of the fact that Kyle didn't technically request it. A heavy moment of silence passed before Kyle's phone started ringing in his jeans. He groaned, reaching in and grabbing it, raising his brow. "It's Bebe," he said quietly.

"Well, answer it," Kenny said, more than glad for the distraction.

Kyle glanced over at him before sliding open the phone with a heavy sigh, "Hey, Bebe," he answered. "Yeah...yeah I'm okay."

Kenny continued to stare at him as Kyle gave Bebe short and simple answers, his fingers digging into the leg of his orange jeans. What the fuck kind of question was Kyle presenting him with? He fucking _knew_ how Kenny felt, how the hell could he even think that that was a good idea to ask? Did Kyle _want_ a rebound? Was he just overly lonely? Was that regret he'd mentioned that morning bubbling up inside the small redhead?

This was too much for Kenny to be able to keep straight.

Kyle sighed again and hung up the phone, bobbing it in his hand. "Bebe said that Stan is walking around telling everyone he can find about how much of a pussy I am," he said sadly. He looked up at Kenny with heavy eyes. "I...I guess we didn't mean as much to him as we did to me. At least Bebe's on my side. She knows me well enough to know I wouldn't do something to..." he trailed off, a tear rolling down his cheek before he shook it away and tossed his phone on the end of Kenny's bed. "Sometimes it sucks not being the popular one of a couple, you know?" he attempted a shaky laugh. "Guess I'm on my own here. Well, aside from you and her I suppose..." he looked down once more and took a trembling breath.

The two of them sat there for a few moments before Kenny sighed. "No."

Kyle looked back up and quirked his brow, "Whaddya mean no? You're not on my side?"

Kenny shook his head and tightened his grip around Kyle's shoulders, as though he were terrified of losing him. "Kyle, I wouldn't kiss ya if you asked me to," he finally answered. Kyle looked at him questionably and he continued, "You're vulnerable right now. You're really hurtin' and you know that doin' somethin' like that would be nothin' but regret for ya in the mornin', ya know?"

"Well Jesus I didn't ask you to bend me over," he rolled his eyes before settling his eyes back on Ken and giving him a small smile. "That aside...I really appreciate that. It's nice to know there's always someone who has my best interests, regardless of their own feelings."

Kenny gave him a pained laugh, "I'm glad."

The redhead looked up at him sympathetically before slowly putting his hand on Kenny's on top of his leg. "Hey, look. You and I both know that...that Stan and I and you are all in this fight together now. But I'm going to tell you one thing, and you need to know I am _not_ saying it out of politeness or trying to avoid being awkward with you. I am telling you the truth."

Kenny nodded slowly, raising his brow and feeling his hand practically on fire under Kyle's gentle grip. "O-okay. Whaddya need to say?"

He took a deep, calming breath and looked at him again, some of the brightness peaking back into his eyes. "If I were to say I wanted to be with you, it wouldn't be a rebound. I know that's what you're thinking and I want you to know I would _never_ do that kind of shit to you. But you're right, I'm pretty upset right now and I have a tendency to lose myself when I feel like this and make some stupid decisions. But...if things don't work out between Stan and I...if we don't find ourselves back with each other..." he paused and looked down shyly.

Kenny's heart seemed to reignite with his words, trying desperately to force himself to remain calm. "Kyle...two months."

"What?" he quirked his brow.

He held up two fingers against Kyle's palm. "If things don't work out between you and Stan. If things really don't go back like that...you wait for two months. And then you decide about what ya want with the two of us."

Kyle looked taken aback. "What the- why so long?"

"Because, that gives you a long-ass time to decide if it's _really_ what you want," he said, though his mind was practically screaming at him for letting this opportunity slip him by. He knew however that Kyle was his best friend above everything else, he had to do this correctly. "One month to get through the breakup. Then one more month to decide if you want to move on from it. You know I'll wait until the goddamn Earth blows up for ya, but I won't give you _back_ an answer for two months."

Kyle blinked at him slowly and nodded. "O-okay," he whispered. "Two months." He hesitated for a moment before twisting his body and wrapping his arms around Kenny's neck. "Thank you for being that asshole in my life," he chuckled softly into his ear.

Kenny smiled and wrapped his arms back around his waist. "My pleasure, you dumbass. It'll get better, I promise."

A slight pause passed before Kyle let out a shaky breath and nodded against his hair. "I believe you."


	10. Familiarity

The thumping of the music around him just seemed like too much. People constantly brushing up against him and ramming into his shoulder was putting him on the edge of picking someone up and throwing them across Cartman's living room. He looked around with hazy eyes, thumb stroking over his half-empty fifth bottle of beer. Or was it the sixth? He stopped keeping count after the first hour. It was free and available and it seemed to be the only thing that was keeping any warmth in his rigid body.

Questions about himself and Kyle seemed to be circulating non-stop around him, every goddamn person in the small party giving him that _look._ Well, one of two looks. Either the annoying sympathetic gaze or the 'you must have really fucked up' glare. It was easy enough to tell just who was on his side and who was siding with his now ex-boyfriend. Luckily he seemed to have the majority on his team. He knew well enough that most of them sided with him for the mere fact of he was more popular than Kyle, not to mention that he'd actually shown up to the party, avoiding suspicion.

' _He's probably with Kenny,'_ he thought bitterly, taking another long swig of the forgiving amber. He noticed early on that the blonde had never showed up, and Stan knew it was for one of two reasons: Either he was just trying to stay out of Stan's way lest he get his ass kicked, or he was busy putting the moves on Kyle now that he was single. The noirette growled furiously at the thought. It wouldn't be hard for Kenny to woo his way into Kyle's pants, he knew the redhead well enough. Anything that upset him in the slightest made him vulnerable and willing to do _anything_ to get his mind off of the matter. Many of Kyle's angrier and sadder days had been spent naked in Stan's bed, begging him to go another round or two just so he could put his stress behind him.

He shut his eyes and furrowed his brow, aching, fleeting memories of their relationship raining upon him like a hurricane. Kyle's smile when he first told Stan that he loved him. His laughter when Stan stuttered the response in his nerves. The softness of his lips, the clean and fresh minty scent that seemed to follow him wherever he went buried deep in his hair. His skin pressed against Stan's, marred with sweat. Fervent whispers, pleads for his touch. Slender, practiced fingers playing with and tugging Stan's hair. The way that their bodies seemed to perfectly form with each other. Deep, metallic green eyes staring at him with what could only have been love as Stan thrust into him, little gasps and moans breaking out of his pale throat. Kyle had been the _essence_ of perfection to Stan. At least...in the beginning.

He groaned and shook his head, looking around at the other party-goers, glaring furiously at couples latching onto each other. _They_ were so fucking happy. _They_ didn't have a care in the world except where the nearest condom was. And, most prominently, _they_ didn't have to worry about the fact that they'd probably just lost their best friend in the worst matter that they possibly could have.

"You doing okay?" a voice asked softly, breaking him from his envious scowling. A voice that made his heart miss a beat. He whirled around and found Wendy staring at him concernedly.

"Yeah. Peachy," he groaned, not really wanting to deal with two exes in one day.

Wendy pouted a bit, "No, you're not. Do you wanna talk about it?" She had no idea why she was walking up to him with the intent of comforting the guy, but a part of her couldn't help but ache seeing him so obviously distraught.

Stan paused and pondered this for a moment, "I...I don't know," he sighed exhaustedly. "It's been a long day, Wendy."

She reached up and tugged on his arm a few times. "C'mon," she jerked her head towards the front door. "Let's talk outside away from all...this," she gestured around a bit. Stan hesitated before allowing her to lead him on the way. He was riding a heavy buzz and talking to someone who had common sense like Wendy sounded like a good idea. Besides, he knew well enough that she wasn't biased towards either himself or Kyle. She still hated that he left her, and she hated Kyle for being the one she was left for. She'd know the answers.

They made it out into the frigid night air, watching their breath escaping into the wind as they leaned on Cartman's front porch railing. The two of them stared out into the street, both looking for the right thing to say.

Stan started slowly, "Wends, I figured you'd be jumping for joy over this."

She chuckled humorlessly and shook her head, "No. I care about both of you, even if I _do_ want to punch both your lights out sometimes..." she paused, looking up and frowning at him. "Stan...what happened?"

He shrugged, playing with the label on his bottle. "Kyle's being a whiny little pussy and took it out on me."

Her frown turned into a glare, sharp grey eyes scanning over the boy in a mix of disgust and disbelief. "Stan, I know Kyle well enough to know that is _not_ the reasoning. He doesn't get angry over just anything."

He looked at her, his face falling sheepishly. "I...I don't know what happened exactly," he muttered. "He was angry about some stuff I said...I was angry that he was letting Kenny hang out with him all the time..." he glanced away and sighed tiredly. "I don't know what to do."

Wendy pursed her lips in thought, really not wanting to defend anyone, but her morals hadn't been downed by enough wine coolers to stop them from beating away her jealousy just yet. "Stan...Kyle would have _never_ cheated on you."

"I know," he agreed pitiably.

She paused and cocked her head, "Then why are you so angry about him being friends with Ken?"

He looked back at her with those sad blue eyes that made her heart pump blindly in her chest. Those eyes always sent her reeling, they were one of the reasons that she found herself with him time and again. "Because...because Kyle was...well...mine," he admitted guiltily.

She frowned again, "He wasn't your property, Stanley."

"I know I know," he groaned, running fingers through his hair irritably. "But Ken is such a fucking smooth talking son of a bitch and Kyle-"

"Is way too smart to fall for that bullshit and you know it," she huffed.

He shrugged a bit, taking another sip of his drink. "Too smart, yeah but...but if he didn't feel something back, he probably wouldn't have been hanging out with him all the time. I know Ky way too well...he would've avoided the hell out of Kenny because he'd feel too awkward if he didn't feel _something,_ ya know?" he winced.

Wendy stared at him and narrowed her gaze a bit, "How long have you known that Kenny wanted to be with him?"

He shrugged, "Few days."

She rolled her eyes, "You two have been pussyfooting around each other for _months_. This isn't about Kenny and Kyle. This is about something that _you_ don't have the fucking balls to admit. You're trying to pass all the blame onto Kyle and you know that that's not right, Stan!"

He shied down a bit and gulped, suddenly finding his bottle very interesting to keep his focus on. "I don't know what I did wrong," he said softly.

"What did Kyle say in your fight, then? He doesn't hide stuff when he's yelling," she smirked a bit.

His shoulders sunk, "He...he said I didn't respect him. That I treated him like he was..." he paused.

"Expendable?" she finished softly.

He shot his head over at her with a bewildered look on his features. "How the fuck did you-"

"Because that's what you _do,_ Stan," she bit. "You take your relationships for granted. Look," she let out a heavy sigh. "I love Kyle, and, believe it or not, I still love you, too. But you two...it's just never gonna work."

His eyes turned even darker in despair, "You don't think we can-"

"Not as a couple, no, I don't," she shook her head. "Stan, you tend to just let relationships run their course without putting out the effort to keep them going. Kyle needs someone who's willing to give as much as he is. Did you two have anything you feel weren't equal in?" she quirked a brow.

He blushed and cleared his throat, "He uh...he thinks that we weren't equal when we...well..."

"Had sex?" she guessed. She noted his soft nodding with a lengthy sigh. She took a long drink of her wine cooler and shook her head. "Stan, just based on how the two of you are, I'm going to assume that _you're_ the one who wasn't willing to bend in that department."

" _More literally than you know_ ," he grumbled to himself.

"Kyle is too much of an...equal opportunity employer," she chuckled tepidly. "He's not going to be okay with being treated like he's less than whoever he's with. But...why is it that _you_ wanted to break up?"

He looked at her indignantly, "How do you know I did?"

"Because the guilt is all over your face," she said gently. "I know your faces, Stan. And I can tell that _something_ is eating you alive, and it's not just the events of today."

He looked at her in silence for a long while, letting the cold air blow into his burning alcohol-fueled cheeks. "Something...never felt right," he finally admitted. "Wends...I _love_ Kyle. But...we just didn't click..." he bit his lip. "Not like we both wanted us to, ya know?"

She nodded softly, "Hon, that happens. You two have been each other's worlds for so long, but that doesn't necessarily mean you need to be _everything_ in the world, ya know?"

He tilted his head up, looking at the crisp sky and feeling hazy tears trying to build in his burning eyes. "Now I feel like we ruined everything," he whispered. "I feel like we'll never go back to being friends again..."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, "That's ridiculous. You two are going to be friends again. You're too close to just let that go."

"It's different now," he replied blankly. "It's one thing when you're just friends and get into a fight, when you're in a relationship it just escalates the fuck out of everything, ya know?"

She shook her head, "No, no I _don't_ know. Stan, people fall into something deeper than friendship because there's something more there, but the foundation is _always_ a strong connection. You and Kyle were closer than anyone I'd ever seen, even myself and Bebe," she admitted with a shrug. "You're both just way too stubborn to let go of what you had. But..." she bit her lip a bit, staring at him in thought.

He looked back at her and locked eyes, he quirked his brow a bit, "What?"

"Stan...you're going to have to be the one to save your friendship," she said softly.

He narrowed his gaze at her and the barest of growls could be heard escaping his throat, "Excuse me? Why shouldn't he? Because he's Miss Perfect?"

She raised her brow a bit, "So it's true, you have a habit of calling him a girl when you're upset with him, huh?"

He blushed a bit and cleared his throat, taking another drink. "W-who told you-"

"Clyde told Annie who told Bebe who told me," she answered, rolling her eyes a bit at the train of gossip that she never wanted to be a part of. She knew the whole damn thing was inevitable though, she knew she'd always be involved in Stan's life in the long run. Her acrylic nails clinked against her bottle and she sighed. "You know me, you know I don't consider being called a girl to be an insult...but to Kyle it is. Did he ever tell you that he didn't like that?"

He nodded slowly, "Yeah...but he lets Cartman call him 'Jew' all the time! I didn't think he'd take it so fucking seriously."

"That's because it's _Cartman,_ " she emphasized. "He doesn't give two shits about Fatty's opinion of him, but yours always meant the world to him, Stan! And if you kept calling him something after he told you he didn't feel comfortable with it well..." she trailed off a bit awkwardly and he straightened up.

"You think this whole thing is my fault," he said lowly.

"No, no I think you were both wrong on your own fronts but, Stan, did he ever insult you like that? I mean not how you two usually do, but in a way that hurt you?"

He blinked and looked out into the street, furrowing his brow in thought. "He let Kenny all over him if that fucking counts."

She rolled her eyes and groaned, "For fucks sake, Stan."

"What?!" he looked at her, tears starting to fall down his cheeks in droves. She recoiled a bit at the sight, a bit unnerved at the flow of emotion that was so very rare from the boy in front of her. "Fuck, Wends, how would _you_ feel in that situation?! I _knew_ something didn't feel right about us, and, I honestly think it was because I somehow _knew_ that Kenny was ogling the fuck out of him with me standing right there! It would've been different if Kyle didn't know but he knew before we were even dating and he _still_ was just fine and dandy with letting Kenny hug him and hang out with him all the goddamn time!" He finished off his beer and angrily threw it from the porch, both of them watching as it landed and shattered in the street. He looked at her, wiping the moisture from his face, "How would _you_ feel?" he repeated.

She stared at him, shocked at his explosion. Her tongue felt held back, unwilling to be dealt with the same fate as that beer bottle should she say the wrong thing. But she knew better. Stan wasn't violent, he was just hurt. She took a deep breath, putting her hand gently on his shoulder. "I don't know," she said honestly. "But...I'll tell you this much: Kenny was rooting for the two of you. I had geography with him and Craig and sat behind them...I could hear him talking about the situation sometimes," she winced. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop but there's nothing better to do," she forced out a weak chuckle. Stan just stared at her expectantly and she continued, "I didn't know how Ken felt about Kyle, I swear I didn't, not until a few nights ago. But he and Craig would be talking about the two of you and...and fuck, Stan, he was happy that Kyle was happy with you. I'm sure it was killing him watching the two of you but he still wanted nothing more than to be a part of your wedding party if it got to that point," she raised her brow. "Don't forget, Kenny is friends with _both_ of you. You know he never ever would have hurt you like that. He probably wouldn't have even told Kyle how he felt if you two had gotten together first."

Stan shifted his weight uncomfortably, shoving his hands into his pockets. His heart was still screaming with hurt and betrayal, his mind shouting at him that Kyle was in the wrong and he was just reacting as anyone would have. However, in the deepest corners of his subconscious, the barest whisper crept through the pain and the fury. One that said that Wendy was right. He knew both Kenny and Kyle well enough to know they wouldn't have been up to any funny business. Still, it didn't stop the rest of his psyche from trying to beat the shit out of that voice of reason. It was just too fresh. His drunken stupor could feel nothing but anguish as he stared at the girl in front of him.

"Wendy?" he started with a cracking voice. "Why...why didn't _we_ work?"

She jerked back a bit, staring at her wine cooler with a face she could feel beginning to burn. "Because you did to me what you did to Kyle," she answered softly. "You took me for granted, just thought I'd always be there at your beck and call whenever you felt like it. You didn't take what I needed into account, Stan." She looked up, her heart falling as the guilt became more visible on his broken expression. She tightened her hand on his broad shoulder. "You have to be the one save the friendship," she repeated. "Kyle's done all he can for now...you have to be the one to make the next move."

He stared down at the cement below their feet in thought. "I don't want me and Ky to be a couple again, Wendy. I can't...I can't do it again with him, ya know?"

She paused before nodding softly, "No one said you have to. But you know that losing him completely would destroy you, and losing you would do the same for him. To be honest...I don't think he wants to be a couple with you anymore either."

"Yeah, he'd rather have _Kenny,_ " he spat enviously.

"And what if he does?" she challenged, starting to feel a burst of anger rising in her gut, more than tired of his infatuation with that whole situation, as understandable as it was. He looked up at her in shock and she pressed on, "Stan, you don't get to control who is with who. What if they _do_ get together? What are you gonna do? Beat Kenny up? Yell at Kyle until your face turns blue?"

He ran his fingers through his thick, black locks and shrugged. "I don't know what I'd do."

"What if they'd gotten together _before_ you and Kyle? How would you've reacted then?" she asked, finishing off her own bottle and setting it on the porch railing. She crossed her arms and jutted out her hip slightly as she waited.

A few long, quiet moments passed, only the dulled thudding of music breaking through the house surrounding the two of them. "I...I would've been like Kenny I guess," he sighed tiredly. "I woulda been...rooting for them but...it's different now. I had him first."

Her face lightened a bit with the admittance. "Hon, it doesn't matter who had him first. What matters is who keeps a hold of him. And you're just not going to be the one who does that. It's hard now, and it might be for a long time...but you two _are_ gonna get through it and go back to be the most annoyingly close and sappy friends on the face of the planet. I promise."

He looked back up at her and the faintest twinge of a smile flashed on his lips. "Why're you bein' so helpful, Wends? I thought you hated me for what I did."

She sighed and shook her head, laughing softly. "I'm definitely not fond of how the whole situation with the both of us went down, I won't lie. But if you and I went on and off for a decade and can still talk civilly like this, I think that's a good indicator of you and Kyle down the road, hm?"

He smiled more and nodded, turning and leaning back on the porch railing. Wendy moved her bottle aside and joined him, both of them staring back at the sky. "You didn't tell me why you're helping though," he broke the quiet.

She shrugged, "I hate seeing you upset to be honest. I'm the only one allowed to make your life a living hell," she teased, elbowing him a bit.

He snorted, pushing her back. "Yeah you _wish_ you had that power over me, Testaburger."

"I do more than you know, Marsh," she stuck her tongue out at him. He chuckled and rolled his eyes at her before sighing.

"Look, obviously this is way too late down the road but, sorry I didn't make you feel appreciated," he blushed and shrugged a bit. "It's not that I _don't_ appreciate when I'm with someone, I just-"

"Don't know how to show it," she finished with a small smile. "I know. That's why I kept taking you back," she scoffed. "I would think 'oh, he's figured it out this time!' Then the next thing I knew we were having that same fucking fight over and over again," she groaned.

"God I think we coulda just pre-printed a script for those fights," he sniggered. "Pretty sure every time we only added maybe one or two new things."

She nodded and chuckled, "Yeah, but we're still friends, aren't we?"

He looked at her and smiled gently in that way that sent chills cascading down her spine. "I always hoped so, regardless of what I was obligated to call you in front of the other guys."

She waved away the notion dismissively, "Probably _nothing_ compared to what us girls had to say about you and your small penis-I mean rude personality," she winked.

"Aw aw awww, come on!" he looked at her with faux anger. "Now _no one,_ chick or dick is gonna wanna get with me You ruined me!"

"Nah. With the way you were just emoting any girl falls hard and fast for that sappy pussy bullshit. And you play sports so all the guys know that you know your way around your balls," she smirked.

They stared at each other before bursting out laughing, putting their heated faces down on the cooled wood beneath their arms and shaking their heads. "Gee, thanks," Stan finally snorted out, wiping a tear from his eye. "Jesus Christ, you bitch," he grinned.

"You pussy," she shot back amusedly. They stared at each other with smiles still over their faces as the music continued to unknowingly blare away behind them. The night seemed to settle over just the two of them as they looked at each other, blue eyes locked in gray. Their alcohol warmed them over, their mutual exhaustion of each other all but gone in their moment of just the two of them once again. How long they stared at each other, neither of them had the slightest clue. Everything just seemed to stop around them, and they held onto that moment as long as they could.

It happened way too quickly, neither of them quite able to begin to comprehend as Stan's face flew towards Wendy's, the both of them clawing and grinding against one another in the chilled air, their body heat flying off of them and dissipating into the night. They didn't know how it happened or how long they stood there, tongues clashing and hands exploring the old, familiar contours of each other. Their breath hot and heavy against each other, messy swipes of tongues across lips and teeth. Biting and groping and falling into each other in comfort as they had so many times in the past. Nothing else even _began_ to cross their mind as the two of them, still locked in each other's touch and lips, started the short walk down to Stan's house.


	11. Pained Resolutions

Bebe had had a policy since she was thirteen and got her first phone: Any text before 10am was to be ignored unless it screamed that it was of vital importance. However, as she sat at her dresser at 9:30, cursing at her hair as she tried to brush through it, and her phone next to her vibrated with Wendy's name, that policy seemed to dissipate into thin air. A simple _'I fucked up.'_ sounded the alarm bells in the blonde's head. She knew as well as any other best friend knew that a text like that could come when you were in class, halfway through having sex, or in the middle of labor, and you dropped _everything_ to get to the bottom of it.

She tossed her brush to the side, opting to merely sweep her thick hair into a messy bun with a scrunchie before grabbing the phone and quickly calling Wendy back. She stared at herself in the mirror, the worry etched onto her face. Wendy didn't send texts like that. She operated way too well within herself. Bebe paused, remembering something very vital that had come into play again: Stan.

She couldn't contain a small growl as a meek _"Hi"_ entered her ears.

"You slept with Stan. Didn't you?" she hissed.

A small sniffle erupted, and Bebe could clearly picture the girl nodding and brushing her hair back behind her ear as she did when she was distraught. _"I...I don't know what happened, Bebe..."_ she said miserably.

Bebe shook her head, getting to her feet and beginning to pace at the foot of her bed, staring daggers into her hardwood floor. "Well you need to tell me _exactly_ what led up to this," she finally spat.

A sigh, _"We...we were at Cartman's party...and w-we started talking about him and Kyle..."_ she trailed off for a moment before resuming, _"I swear, I only went to him with the intention of talking him out of going emo or some shit, Bebe!"_

"Uh huh," the blonde rolled her eyes, grabbing her chocolate from her nightstand and angrily chomping down into a raspberry filled sweet. "Wendy, you're his _ex._ You're not supposed to be his fucking Dr. Phil!"

" _I know I know but he just looked so miserable,"_ she said softly. _"I felt so bad for him..."_

Hazel eyes angrily narrowed, staring at her satin sheets in what she could tell was nothing short of a death glare. "The _only_ one you should be feeling sorry for in this whole fucking mess is Kyle, Wendy!"

A pause stilled between them. _"What? What are you talking about?"_

Bebe scoffed, "Uh, _Kyle's_ the one that's being branded to everyone as a pussy by Marsh? _He's_ the one that's been dealing with Stan's bullshit for so long! _He's_ the one that didn't sleep with someone only a few hours after the break-up!" she bit. "Goddammit Wendy how the _fuck_ could you do something like that?!"

" _Hey!"_ her voice began to flare with that anger that made Wendy famous. _"I said it just happened! And stop acting like Kyle's some perfect fucking angel! He's the one who's been tip-toeing around the truth for so long! And Stan was right, it's bullshit that he kept hanging out with Kenny after that whole episode with him!"_

Bebe's jaw dropped in disbelief and she let out a curt laugh. "Oh? You mean like how _you_ tried for five out of their seven months together to 'accidentally' bump into Stan in places where Kyle wasn't with him? Or how you just 'happened' to be the one there to pick up the pieces of his and Kyle's break-up? Kenny at least wasn't actually _trying_ anything with him!"

" _I called you for fucking support, you bitch, not a lecture!"_ Wendy screeched on the other line.

She growled, "Yeah? Well do you know how many fucking times I've 'supported' you through your Stan drama? I'm fucking _done_ with it, Wendy! No matter what I fucking say, no matter how many times I tell you to fucking own up to being the 'strong woman' that you say that you are, all you seem to ever manage to do is spread your legs for that asshole!"

Wendy snarled angrily, _"Well lookie at you, Miss I-think-Kyle-is-perfect! For your information, I fucking defended that dick from Stan slandering the fuck out of him! How dare I be there to help someone when they're down!"_

"Yeah, because nothing says 'I respect this person and will defend them' like sleeping with their ex the same fucking day they break up, Wendy!" she screamed, her fingers scratching through her messily strewn up hair in frustration. She couldn't fucking believe this. It was the same fucking fight they had every time Wendy went back to Stan, but now it had a new element in it that just set Bebe's blood on fire.

" _Maybe you just don't understand because no one cares enough about_ _ **you**_ _to want to come back,"_ she drawled. Bebe's jaw dropped once more, trembling with anger. _"Yeah, Clyde wants fucking nothing to do with you, Kyle's a raging fucking homo, and I very highly doubt Token will stick around with you very long either considering how many girls he was checking out at Cartman's party."_

Bebe straightened up, her fingers clenching around her phone to the point where her knuckles were turning white. She stared straight at the wall and dropped into a firm, stewing tone. "Maybe I haven't had the best luck with men. But at least unlike you, _I_ have my principles. All you fucking do is criticize others for their choices, Testaburger, but you know what you are? You're a fucking _rebound_ and that's all you'll ever be!" she spat before hanging up the phone and throwing it onto her bed, panting in furious rage. She grabbed her pillow and screamed into it, sinking her teeth into the plush fabric and shaking her head around ferociously. She was so _sick_ of Wendy's bullshit with Stan. She'd been dealing with it for the past ten years and she was so far from giving a single _bit_ of a shit about it anymore. But it was all that Wendy ever wanted to talk about, so she played sympathetic best friend time and again. She growled, throwing the pillow back onto the bed. "Not anymore. Never. Fucking. Again!" she sneered.

She grabbed her phone from off the bed, tossing it back and forth in her hands as she resumed her pacing. This was a predicament. She had a lot of options in which she herself could throw everything spiraling out of control. She knew well enough that Stan and Wendy wouldn't tell anyone else about what they did. Or they would and it would get back to Kyle in the absolute worst of manners. She could be the one to tell him, to let him know gently without it being a hardly sympathetic 'sucks about Wendy and Stan, Dude' blurted out to him in the halls of school. Bebe knew Kyle well enough to know that that wouldn't lead anywhere but the redhead absolutely losing his cool demeanor and probably breaking Stan's nose. _"Not that he doesn't fucking deserve it,"_ she thought bitterly.

She sighed in aggravation and shook her head as she opened up her phone, scrolling through her contacts. So much for not wanting to be that gossipy cheerleader. But this was important, someone had to tell Kyle before everything got way out of hand. She found his name and her heart lurched in pity. Poor guy was going to lose it from this news, she knew it was just in his sensitive nature. She clicked 'call' and held it up to her ear once again, brushing a strand of fallen hair from her face. This was way too much to deal with before noon on a Saturday.

" _Mm-hello?"_ a groggy voice responded. Bebe's heart stopped and her jaw dropped in shock.

"Kenny?!" she shrieked.

" _Hey, Bebe. Aw shit yeah this is Kyle's phone. He left it at my house yesterday,"_ he chuckled. _"Asshole has the same ringtone as mine. Sorry. I'll take it back to him and tell him ya called."_

She paused before shouting, "Wait!"

He cleared his throat, obviously trying to get himself more awake. _"What's up?"_

She took a deep breath and bit her lip. "Kenny, can I ask you something?"

" _Go for it, Dude."_

"You and Kyle...you didn't...sleep together, did you?" she winced.

Another pause and a deep chuckle emerged, _"Nah. Ky's in a bad spot right now, I'd never do that to him. Why do ya ask?"_

Bebe's words caught in her throat, nothing but a soft whimper breaking out in the tension. She sniveled, "B-because...Stan..."

Obviously her lack of words rang loud and clear. She could hear him quickly moving about and the muffled sound of clothing. _"That fucker slept with some whore last night, didn't he?!"_

"A whore by the name of Wendy Testaburger," she growled.

Kenny shouted in frustration, muttering under his breath before finally exclaiming, _"Are you fuckin' kidding me?! So not_ _ **only**_ _does he break Kyle's heart, not_ _ **only**_ _does he insult me for bein' around Ky and turn into a possessive dickhead, but he goes right back to Wendy so fuckin' soon?! What the_ _ **fuck**_ _is his problem?! And he calls_ _ **me**_ _the bad guy?!"_

Bebe nodded along with his words, the anger twisting in her chest. "Kenny, we have to tell Kyle."

He stopped his angry swearing, _"Are you sure? Bebe, you didn't see him yesterday. The guy's crushed enough."_

"Well it's better to be crushed soon after the fact than to let him heal and reopen the wounds, right?" she shrugged.

" _I...I don't know. I feel like that'd just kill him."_

She 'hmphed', "Ken, he _needs_ to know. Because the sooner he learns what a complete jackoff Marsh is, the sooner he can get over him. And you know that's what both of us want for him, to just get over that sack of shit."

Another small and awkward laugh broke through, _"While I ain't denyin' that, this is...I dunno, it feels like we'd just be stickin' our fingers in the knife wounds Stan gave him."_

"Wouldn't _you_ want to know if someone did that to you?" she asked softly. "Ken, he's going to find out one way or the other. I think that he should find out from his friends, not just the gossipers in the hallways, ya know? Besides, if we don't tell him, and he finds out we know, which he would at least know that I know since it's Wendy involved, he'll hate us, too."

Ken paused before letting out a lengthy sigh. _"Godfuckingdammit yer right. I hate it when yer right. Bebe, this is going to fuckin' kill him...and I can't tell him just by myself, he might think that...uh..."_

"That you're making it up so he'll run to you for comfort?" she finished quietly.

He groaned a bit and Bebe could make out the clear sound of him shaking his head against the phone. _"Guess you know all about how I feel about Ky, too, huh?"_ he snickered quietly. _"God, what the fuck_ _ **hasn't**_ _been passed around?"_

She smiled gently, running her finger over her dresser top. "Ken, look, I know we don't talk a lot, but I think you're a really good guy for not going after Kyle when he's like this. I mean, we only dated a few months but he means a lot to me, it's nice to know that _one_ of his friends actually gives a shit about him."

He chuckled softly, _"Well, I appreciate that you appreciate me I s'pose. You and Ky both know I'm not always a jackass, it just tends to dominate the rest of my personality."_

"Isn't that the truth," she snorted, rolling her eyes.

" _Look, I'm gonna go to Kyle's to give his phone back...you wanna meet us somewhere for lunch where we can tell him?"_

She nodded, "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. We'll pay for him, free food always calms the nerves," she smirked.

" _Cool, I'll try to convince him t' actually go. I'll text ya later and tell ya where to meet us."_

"Sounds good," she smiled. "I'll talk to you later, Ken. Try...try not to just explode the news all over him, hm?"

" _I don't have the balls to do that,"_ he admitted. _"I'm just comin' along for the support and the food. Yer gonna have to be the one to really break it to him."_

She nodded. "Makes sense. All right, bye, Kenny."

" _See ya,"_ he said softly before hanging up.

She put her phone down and bobbed it in her hand, licking over her lips and shaking her head. She glanced out her window at the sun beaming down through a blue sky and sighed. She hated every ounce of what she was finding herself entangled in, but she knew well enough to know that she _needed_ to be involved. Her mind fleeted back to Wendy and she growled, thinking of her and Stan macking on each other while poor Kyle was probably doing everything in his power just to get his mind off of his heartbreak. She bit her lip and glared at a picture of herself and Wendy they'd taken a few years ago framed and sitting prettily on her desk. She walked over and slammed it face down, letting her hand linger on the frame bitterly.

Never again.


	12. Affirmation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mixed up chapters here, the REAL chapter 11 is now posted. Good job me for losing files!

Kyle made his way down his stairs, rubbing his eyes with the back of his free hand and trying to dull the throbbing of his head. He was hungover something _fierce_. He'd never drank like he had the night before, managing to swipe a bottle of his dad's vodka and one of his mom's wine and down them both in a matter of only a few hours. He could just feel the shame of his actions weighing him down, knowing that his parents would figure it out before long and he'd be held captive in his room the rest of his life. He groaned, continuing down into the living room, swiping his tennis shoes from beside the door and taking them over to the couch to pull them on. He sighed, his head and heart wanting to just anchor him down. But he knew he couldn't do that. He had to move.

"You doin' okay there, Fag?" a voice called from behind him.

He didn't even bother raising his head, simply muttering a, "Shut the fuck up, Ike."

His brother snorted lightly, coming over and plopping down in the chair adjacent to the couch, watching Kyle with sharp, analytical brown eyes. It was astounding how the two of them had that same expression, how despite the very obvious fact that they weren't blood related, anyone could tell that they were brothers just from that look alone. "Kyle, I'm serious."

The redhead finished tying his shoe, looking over at his brother while he remained slumped over. "I'm fine," he said quietly.

Ike placed his head in his hand and quirked a thick, dark brow. "No, you're not. I heard you watching those stupid comedy videos you always watch when you're depressed. And you're going for a run."

"So?" he demanded. "I'm not allowed to get some exercise without Thine Holiness' permission, now?"

The noirette gave him a knowing, crooked smile. "The _only_ time you run is around track season and when you're hungover. I saw you swipin' Ma and Dad's stuff, Dude."

"Gonna narc?" he rolled his eyes.

Ike sputtered with laughter, "Get more cliche, Kyle, please. It suits you." Kyle groaned in response, leaning back against the couch and staring at the wall, his green eyes swamped in a thick toxin. It unnerved his brother a bit, knowing well enough that few things made Kyle actually upset anymore. He cleared his throat a bit, "No. No I won't tell them," he finally answered. "They'll figure it out on their own anyway..."

Kyle sighed, his shoulders dropping. "Thanks," he said blankly.

Ike's face screwed up into concern. "Stan really fucked you up, didn't he?" He watched in astonishment as Kyle flinched at his name, how his thin brows furrowed into absolute _rage_.

"No," he spat, not with malice at Ike, the younger could tell that much. It was all anger at his once super best friend. He got to his feet, grabbing his mp3 player out of his pocket and placing in one of his earbuds. He looked over to see Ike still staring at him with such sympathy it made the redhead just want to lock himself away. He _hated_ people feeling bad for him. Even his parents hadn't bothered to ask him about anything school related once they'd figured out what had happened. He just wanted everything to go back to normal. Not that he knew what normal was anymore.

"Ky...are you gonna be okay?" Ike asked, his voice suddenly meek. He'd seen Kyle fly off the handle only a couple of times, but he knew well enough to stay far out of the boy's path should it go down that road.

He nodded subtly, "Yeah. Yeah I just need to...I-I gotta get out of here," he muttered, hurrying towards the door and rushing outside. He slammed the barrier behind him and let out a long, shaky breath. He couldn't take this. He couldn't take how _everyone_ knew how it all made him feel. He had figured out earlier that he'd left his phone at Kenny's, and a part of him was grateful for it. He didn't want to deal with people right now. He didn't want people calling him, texting him, asking him what happened. He didn't _want_ to know who blamed him and who blamed Stan. All he wanted was to find himself again, because as disgusting as it made him feel, he knew that Stan was such a huge part of who he was. Losing him, as either a friend or something more, was literally losing his other half.

He shuddered with anger, sticking his other ear bud in and letting the player blast into his eardrums. He stuck it deep in his pocket and gritted his teeth, letting his feet fly down the sidewalk, making damn sure he didn't go in the direction of Stan's house, opting to head towards town instead. His hangover certainly didn't appreciate the blaring music or the continuous thudding of his feet against the pavement, but he knew it'd be worth it. He'd figured out after his first hangover when he had to go to track the next morning that running made it all better. He would just sweat it out and go back to normal.

' _If only I could do that with that fucking asshole,'_ he thought bitterly, dodging around a couple walking their dog. If only he could just take his relationship bullshit and run away from it, just leave it behind him in the dust. If only he could go home, take his shower, and _feel_ the stress melting off of his body. But he knew better, he knew that he would go home and stand in that water, staring off into nothingness and feeling sorry for himself. He hated that. He always told Stan that self pity was nothing more than a ploy to yourself for attention. He told him that his constant desire to go Goth again whenever things didn't work out for the best was nothing more than him whining because he didn't get his way and to grow the fuck up. However, he also knew that he himself couldn't control the emotions from bubbling up, not this time. This all was weighing way too much on him.

His fists clenched as they rocked beside him in his rhythm, his eyes scanning for obstacles while his mind flittered around on its own accord. He couldn't help but wonder if it would have been better or worse had he and Stan ended it earlier or later down the road. If they'd figured out they weren't right for each other earlier, maybe it could have gone back to weekend game nights, just a little bit of awkward sexual tension lingering in the distance. Kyle knew he'd much rather prefer that than what he knew was going to happen now: Stan and he weren't going to talk. Not unless Kyle made the first move, Stan was _never_ one to talk through things that were wrong. He liked to just walk away from it and hope it'd resolve itself on its on time. Stan was going to glare at him nonstop, or more specifically, him and Kenny.

He snarled at the thought, shaking his head a bit as he rounded a sidewalk corner and came to an intersection, keeping his feet bouncing as he waited for the 'walk' light to come on across the way. _'Jealous fucking asshole,'_ he frowned. _'He fucking knows I'd never fucking cheat. I'd never fucking betray him...'_ the thought trailed off as a very specific memory of a fourth grade egg project rang in his mind. The way that Stan became absolutely _infatuated_ with jealousy over himself and Wendy working together to the point that they nearly had another falling out, where Stan had hit him low and tried like hell to hurt him back, even though Kyle hadn't even _done_ anything. The light changed and he sighed, heading across the street and continuing down towards town. He should've known better. He should have known that Stan would get the way that he was. That was just in his personality. Kyle trusted him, often enough seeing Stan and Wendy near each other in the hallways and letting them have their space. He should've known that Stan never quite had that same level of trust to give in return.

Of course...Kyle knew well enough that there was a reason for him to be jealous. Hell, he'd admitted it himself to Kenny, he definitely had a thing for him, he had for a good while. It was never just quite as adamant as his feelings towards Stan, however, so he opted to go for broke. He definitely felt that telling pang of regret seated deep in his stomach. But Stan didn't _know_ how Kyle felt. Besides, feelings or not, Kyle was still loyal to what he considered a fault. He sighed. Maybe he should've just let himself be the bad guy. Maybe he should've made Kenny a mistake, made it so much easier for both himself and Stan to just walk away from each other...but then he would've lost both of his best friends. Kyle bit his lip, feeling tears beading his eyes.

' _Faster. Have to go fucking faster,'_ he demanded himself, picking up speed and letting the wind blow directly into his burning eyes. He had to get out of these feelings. Kyle Broflovski didn't fucking cry anymore. He punched someone in the face, learned his lesson, and went about his day. Being picked on for so long for being small, nerdy, gay, and Jewish had made him resilient, made it so he adapted as to not having even _more_ ammo for the other guys to find on him. Butters and Clyde were the pussies, _not_ Kyle. He dropped his vision to the sidewalk, letting his peripherals guide him about. There had to be _some_ way to get out of this funk quicker. Kyle was smart, he was always able to find the way out of sticky situations as they presented themselves.

' _Why is this situation so fucking hard then?'_ he thought miserably.

His moping was cut short as he ran into a warm figure, bouncing off and landing on his back on the sidewalk. His head fell back against the cement and he squinted in dazed pain. "Fucking Jew! Jesus fucking Christ watch where you're fucking going!" Cartman's voice sneered in his ringing head.

"Ugghhh," Kyle groaned, struggling to push himself into a sitting position. Just what he needed. _Another_ reason for him to want to off himself.

"N-need some help there, Kyle?" Butters popped up, holding his hand out for Kyle to take.

Kyle hesitated before accepting the help, letting Butters assist him back onto his feet. "Sorry," he muttered at the heavyweight still glaring at him, pulling his earbuds out and turning off his music with slow, deliberate moves.

Cartman's brow quirked. "Did you just say sorry?"

"Yeah, I fucking did," he spat. "Jesus fucking Christ I ran into you and I said I'm sorry. You got a problem with that, Fatass?!" he nearly screeched.

Butters and Cartman backed up from him a bit, scanning over his face with nerves flittering in their eyes. They knew this side of Kyle. Even Cartman knew it was a bad idea to let it go further. He was usually the one who took the brunt of Kyle's assaults, after all. "Kyle...a-are ya okay?" Butters said very gently.

Kyle stared at the blonde for a few moments, noticing all at once that his hands were hurting something awful. He raised his arms, unclenching his fists and looking at his palms in a bit of fright. His nails had cut right into the tender flesh, a small trail of rubies trickling down from each indentation. "...I don't think I am," he said blankly. He vaguely felt Butters nervously put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but paid it no mind, staring at the mess he'd made instead.

Cartman peered at his handiwork and shook his head, "Jesus, Jew. You're a fucking disaster."

Kyle took a deep breath, feeling that damning shame starting to emanate off of himself. Butters muttered something under his breath before Kyle found a tissue shoved into his hand. "You may wanna...ya know..." he said timidly.

Kyle looked at him for a bit before doing as suggested, wiping the mars from his palms with an unreadable expression on his slender profile. "Thanks," he barely whispered at the boy.

"It's no problem, Kyle," he nodded. "Ya...ya wanna talk about it?"

"What's there to say?" he looked at him tiredly "Stan fucked up, I fucked up..." he dropped his shoulders again, tossing his tissue into a trash bin alongside a restaurant wall beside them. "Just...typical high school romance drama bullshit...right?" he forced an awkward smile on his face.

Cartman scoffed, "No, because you two were butt-buddies _long_ before you were literal ones."

Kyle quirked his brow, "Huh?"

"Fuckin' attached at the hip and everything," he rolled his eyes. "I always knew you two would end up bein' faggy with each other down the way. Didn't know that Kinny was in on your little LGBT pride bullshit, too, but shit happens I guess," he said blandly.

Kyle's hair bristled a bit and he frowned, "No, Cartman, it's not different. It's going to be the same as every other failed relationship. It'll take time but-"

"But nothing!" Cartman scowled. "Jesus Christ are you that fucking dense, Kahl? You two are gonna have to make up because otherwise we're _all_ going to suffer!"

"Well fucking _excuse me,_ you fucking majesty," he drawled, placing his hands on his hips and glaring up at the glutton. "Didn't realize that I'm not allowed to go through the regular process of dealing with this kind of bullshit because it impedes on royal time."

"N-now c'mon, fellers," Butters bit his lip worriedly, standing off to the side between the two. "No need to get ups-"

"Fuckin' dumbass Jew," Cartman cut him short, the both of them locked in their all-too-familiar stare down. "I mean you _aren't_ going to fucking have the 'regular' process. You're going to do nothing but be antsy and pissy, and Marsh won't be anything but fucking goth. You two are going to drag the rest of us down!"

"WELL THEN FUCKING STAY AWAY FROM ME!" Kyle screamed, waving his arms around. Cartman stumbled back, a part of him afraid that one of those appendages was going to come right for his nose as they had so many times in the past. "Jesus fucking _Christ,_ Cartman! I'm going through enough fucking shit right now! I don't need your fucking superiority complex all up in my face, too!" He scowled, dropping his arms down to his sides, making sure not to clench his fists into his fresh wounds. "I don't particularly _want_ to hang around with you anyway!" he ground his teeth down. "I've been telling you that for _years._ So if you have such a fucking problem with me being fucking upset, then just stay away from me! I don't want to deal with listening to you rag on me for fucking up anyway! I have _enough_ people that think Stan's some perfect fucking being and I'm the only bad guy in this..." he trailed off, his eyes suddenly losing their poison and glistening like ice; pure, clean coldness.

Cartman watched in shock, not used to Kyle getting emotional around him like this, he hadn't since middle school. The anger was always still there, but Kyle made damn sure that the only people who ever saw his sadness were Stan and Kenny, because they were the only ones who wouldn't judge him for it. A small sniffle was quickly forced down by the small redhead and the familiar anger flared once again, melting away the unwelcome glacier.

"I don't think it's your fault, Dumbass," Cartman finally said, his cheeks tinging at the admittance. Something about Kyle looking upset made him so fucking uncomfortable though. Enough had been changed in their routine, he didn't need the Jew's PMS getting in his way as well.

Kyle stopped short, his mouth falling a bit in confusion. "You...you don't?"

He rolled his eyes, "No. Because I know you're the fucking girl of your relationship and-OW!" he screamed as that fury he feared finally connected to his face. He stumbled back, rubbing his cheek and looking at Kyle who was bright red and panting through his teeth.

"Don't you _fucking_ call me a girl, Fatass!" he warned, his eyes screaming promises of pain should he not be heeded.

Cartman lips tweaked into a subtle smirk, unable to help himself, "Because that's Hippie's pet name for you, right?"

Kyle screeched from behind his clenched teeth and started to advance on him before Butters grabbed his arm, looking at him in fear and concern. "Kyle, now h-he's just teasin' ya! Ya know Eric just likes t' get under y-your skin!" he insisted. Kyle glanced at him before back up at the brunette, his stare still dangerously narrowed.

"Don't. Call. Me. That," he breathed. "Call me 'Jew' or 'Kahl' or what the fuck ever else your stupid ass mind wants. But not that. Next time, I won't just be aiming for your face. And you _know_ Butters can't pull me off of you," he growled.

A brief flicker of panic crossed Cartman's face before it resumed its normal demeanor and he shrugged. "Fine, be a kike about it," he smirked. Kyle flinched at the term but let it pass, taking his arm back from Butters and crossing his arms firmly, his hip jutting to the side a bit. Eric couldn't help but snort, seeing Kyle's mom in the stance.

"Now, why don't _you_ blame me?" Kyle asked, trying to keep a coolness to his tone. "You usually jump at any chance to say something's all my fault and make my life a living hell," he rolled his eyes.

"Because I know how much of a-" he paused as Kyle gave him that look of 'watch it'. "...pussy you are," he managed to save himself. "You're always the one who's givin' shit and never taking it or whatever because you think you're such a fucking martyr."

Kyle's face dropped into indignation. "I do not fucking think I'm a martyr, you fat sack of shit! I'm just a decent fucking person. Maybe you should try it for once," he twisted his face again.

Cartman waved away the notion, looking at him with dulled, bored eyes. "My fucking point is that I know _you_ would've tiptoed around, making sure that stupid idiot was happy before you let yourself be happy like the fucking retard that you are. Him yelling at you for hanging out with Kinny just proves he was fighting for something to get angry about," he scoffed.

Kyle blinked, looking at the ground a bit in thought. "I...I didn't really think of it like that..."

"Besides, Marsh only knew about you and Kinny for a few days," he huffed.

His head shot back up, "What? How do _you_ know?"

"Because he fucking told me, thinking for some reason that I gave a shit," he rolled his eyes. "Asked _me_ for advice," he chuckled.

"Wow...if he only knew for a few days and wanted to break up with ya..." Butters said thoughtfully. "Aw jeez, Kyle..."

Kyle looked up at Cartman skeptically, trying to ignore the distraught bubbling up inside of him from Butters' words, "Who else knows about Kenny and I?"

"Uh, _everyone_?" he snorted. "Clyde told like two other people and it just fucking took off."

"Ugh," Kyle groaned, putting his head into his palms and shaking his head. "No _wonder_ people think I'm the cause of everything!"

"W-whaddya mean?" Butters asked, cocking his head.

Kyle looked at him with a sad frown, "Because you _know_ how that shit goes. People don't hear 'oh Kenny has a thing for Kyle'. No. They hear 'Kenny bent Kyle over in the middle of trigonometry and fucked him on the teacher's desk' or some shit! Everyone thinks I'm a fucking cheating whore!"

"Pft, you think Po'Boy could get into trig?" Cartman guffawed.

"You're missing the _point,_ " he seethed. "God...godfuckingdammit." he muttered, shaking his head. "This wasn't supposed to happen. This...I thought it'd be so..." he trailed off, his body nearly going limp. This was too much. He wasn't supposed to be caught in a fucking rumor train like this. He was supposed to just be the quiet nerd in the corner with his book, happening to be holding the hand of the quarterback. That was _supposed_ to be how it worked. Something so goddamn simple...Kyle couldn't help but inwardly laugh at himself. He knew better. He knew that _nothing_ was ever simple in South Park. Why should he be the exception?

"What're ya gonna do now, Kyle?" the blonde ask worriedly.

He looked over at him and shrugged. "What _can_ I do? I can tell people the truth all I want...but Stan's the popular one between the two of us. People will believe him if he says the sky is fucking purple...I just have to hope it all dies out on its own."

"It won't," Cartman said simply. "What Stan said about you and him fucking in Token's house still hasn't."

"...What?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. "Stan...Stan said that..."

"He _lied_ ," he said thickly, a brow cocked a bit. "Kahl, people _still_ think you're a fucking slut. Why the fuck do you think everyone is believing so easily that a tight-ass moralistic Jew like you would actually cheat on that hippie douche?"

Kyle's mouth dropped open and his eyes fell to the ground. "I...But I never..."

"Doesn't matter," he said matter-of-factly. "Stan said it, Stan is a quarterback, Stan is believed. You just have to sit back and let the rumor mill do whatever it wants to you."

Kyle crossed his arms, letting his hands rub up and down them self-consciously. He couldn't even begin to explain why, but it just made him feel so _dirty_. Like people had been staring at him in the halls, in class, wondering just who else he'd gone around and fucked. Like people saw him and Stan together and they looked at him with such disgust, thinking that Stan was an innocent victim in Kyle's whorish endeavors. He sighed, letting his head drop and his loose ember bangs fall into his eyes. "Guess there's nothing I can do about it now...I guess he just fucking won the break up. And I'm just gonna have to live with it until graduation."

Cartman shrugged, "Well, you only have until the end of this year then. Though I wouldn't get my yearbook signed if I were you," he smirked. Even Kyle couldn't help but feel a twinge of a smile on his lips at that, shaking his head still at the ground and just letting his emotions try to sort themselves out and run their course.

"Uh...oh h-hamburgers," Butters whispered suddenly. The two others looked at him confusedly, seeing him staring across the street. They followed his vision and their jaws dropped.

Kyle's heart sank into the toes of his running shoes, his analytical gaze quickly assessing the situation. Stan. Wendy. Laughing. Smiling. _Hand holding._ Brushing his hair back like he did when he flirted. A complete nonchalance about him. Like nothing in his world was wrong, like nothing even _mattered._

"That... _bastard_..." he rasped, his chest heaving uncontrollably. He turned and jumped back a bit, hiding himself behind Cartman's weight. The brunette looked at him confusedly before just allowing it, angling himself so more of the redhead was skewed from Stan's possible vision. Not that it looked like he could see anything in the world besides the girl beside him.

Kyle's hand clasped over his mouth, his eyes slamming shut as he tried to get himself under control. His free arm went around his stomach, bending over slightly at the waist as his body tried to fail him and send him into a crumpled heap on the sidewalk. This wasn't happening. This wasn't fucking _happening._ It hadn't even been a _day._

"They're gone," Butters said as Wendy and Stan rounded a corner. He looked at Kyle with empathetic hazel eyes. "Kyle..." he said softly, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

Kyle shook his head, violently jerking away from the touch. He could deal with it. He just couldn't.

"Cartman..." the redhead lowered his hand a bit and managed to work out.

"What?"

"I...I need to borrow your phone..." he swallowed. "I-I don't have mine..."

Cartman merely nodded, grabbing it from his pocket and handing it over. "Who're you calling?" Butters asked gently.

Kyle sniffled, keeping his eyes locked on the piece of plastic in his hand. His lip trembled, his entire body quivering with such powerful emotion that he didn't even know he had. It was like Stan not only reopened the wound, but stabbed him again, twisting his knife in it, shoving a lemon down in, and sewing it back up. All with that fucking long haired bitch standing by laughing as he did it. His answer came out in such a quiet whimper that they both struggled to hear him, "I need Kenny."


	13. Levels

Wendy watched Stan from behind her coffee cup, amazed at his appetite considering his situation as he scarfed down a stack of pancakes. "Slow down, Stan," she chuckled. "You don't wanna choke."

He looked up at her with a mouthful of food and tilted his head, "How do you know?"

"Ew," she crinkled her nose at his mannerisms and he snorted, swallowing down his food. "I'm pretty sure not many people want death by pancakes," she smirked, raising a thin brow at him.

He shrugged, "I dunno, I think that sounds like a pretty bitchin' way to die."

She laughed and shook her head, tracing her finger along the rim of her mug. She stared at him dreamily as he went back to devouring every syrup-soaked morsel he could find. She knew that what she did was wrong. She was more than aware that what she did was not okay in anyone's book...but she also knew she couldn't help herself. Stan was the one element in her life that made her lose her control, made it so all her logic was smashed away. One look of those dashing blue eyes made her melt into a quivering pile of nerves; they always had. She placed her chin into her palm, taking a small sip of her drink and her face twisted a bit, her mind trying to focus on whether or not the coffee she was enjoying was free-trade before it melted into their current circumstance. She growled quietly, fingers clutching around the porcelain in a vice grip.

She stared down at the table and furrowed her brow, thinking about what Bebe had said before she'd hung up on her. Bebe _never_ talked to her like that. She'd never call someone something so awful without an actual reason, at least, not to their face. The two of them had made a pact years beforehand to never insult each other for matters of sex, knowing well enough that it could easily get out of hand. Apparently Wendy finally crossed that line.

"What's up?" Stan's voice piqued her back into reality. She looked up, finding him staring at her with a cocked brow, syrup on his chin. She snorted a bit, wiping her own face with her finger. He took the hint and chuckled, wiping off the sticky mess before looking back at her with those azure eyes and making her problems almost melt away. Almost. "You okay?" he asked.

She took a deep breath and shrugged, "Bebe and I had a fight this morning."

He ducked down sheepishly, "About us?"

She nodded. "Yeah. She thinks I'm a..." she paused and looked at him with questioning eyes. "Stan, I need to ask you something."

"Anything," he shrugged, pushing his empty plate out of the way and grabbing his own coffee.

She bit her glossed lip and cleared her throat, "Stan...am I just a...a rebound?" she winced.

He stared at her, bewildered before breaking into laughter. "Wends, who the fuck takes 'just a rebound' out to breakfast?" he rolled his eyes.

"Yeah but-" she stopped for a moment, her sharp mind whirring. She could take this one of two ways: Either she could stop now and just preserve their moment together without the drama, or she could push the envelope and see just how far Stan was willing to go with her. Only one way to find out. "Stan," she started back up. "You _just_ broke up with Kyle yesterday. Don't you feel like it's...too soon for you to be back on the market?" she winced again.

His smile dropped and his eyes seemed to become shadowed at the mention of the redhead. "I'm sure he's already out sucking Kenny's dick, so I'm not too concerned."

Wendy's jaw dropped a bit and her eyes narrowed, rage beginning to percolate furiously in her stomach. "Is _that_ why you wanted to sleep with me?" she hissed. "Because you think Kyle's out there doing the same thing _you_ did?!"

He shook his head, "No. But thinking about it that way makes me feel better," he shrugged sheepishly. "Won't lie, I feel like a dick about finding someone else so quickly, but...like you said, it's not gonna work with us, so why just sit around? There's no perfect amount of time to wait before moving on, right?"

"Well it's probably more than seven hours," she cocked her brow. He shrugged again and she sighed, sipping her coffee tiredly. "Stan...I feel... _bad_."

"Why do you feel bad?" he asked.

She tucked her hair behind her ear, "Because it really isn't fair that we did this to Kyle."

He frowned, "Hey, Kyle has nothing to do with the two of us," he pointed between himself and her. "We were together _long_ before Kyle and I became a thing."

"But you and he had a longer lasting relationship than us," she muttered, fiddling with her mug's handle. "We never made it seven months without breaking up..." she trailed off and looked off to the side, staring at the floor. Her heart was sinking. She pretty much just admitted that the two of _them_ didn't work either. It filled her with that oh-so-familiar combination of depression and rage that seemed to hang around herself and Stan.

"Well...let's not let that happen this time," Stan said quietly.

Wendy shot her grey eyes back up at him in shock. "W-what?"

He shifted a bit and cleared his throat, "Why don't we actually _work_ for it this time?" he suggested. "Wends, you and I _do_ make a good couple. We're awesome when we're just like this, ya know?" She nodded slowly, her mouth trying to drop at his words before her mind shut it right back up. "Maybe I just need to learn to be more appreciative and you..." he stopped, biting his lip.

"What?" she cocked her brow suspiciously. "I need to what?"

He cleared his throat awkwardly and brushed his dark bangs out of his eyes. "Maybe you need to...not...freak out at...everything..." he dropped his eyes to the table, knowing that he just said the _wrong_ thing.

Wendy's grip around her mug tightened and she gritted her teeth, sparks shooting through her gaze. " _I_ need to not freak out?" she echoed, slamming her mug onto the table. "What about you?"

"What about me?" he finally met her eyes again and blinked.

She scoffed, leaning back and crossing her arms. "Mr. Kyle-is-out-sucking-Kenny's-dick is telling _me_ not to overreact? Come the fuck on, Stanley."

He frowned and stared into his coffee cup bitterly. "Okay. So I have a fucking jealousy problem, okay? We've made this perfectly fucking clear. Can we drop it?"

"Not until you tell me one: _why_ you have such a jealousy problem, and two: why you think I'm the only one who freaks out at everything!" she said through clenched teeth.

He sighed and shook his head. "You don't freak out at everything, I'm sorry that's not how I meant for it to come out. It's just...a lot of our break-up arguments started with you just yelling at me instead of telling me what the fuck you wanted like a normal person."

She opened her mouth to angrily retort before it slowly shut itself, her mind scanning through various memories of their fights. Seeing Stan standing there looking completely baffled at her screams, how he asked time and again what it was he'd done wrong...Oh shit. She groaned, rubbing her forehead, "Okay, yeah, I suck at not launching into a hissy fit and talking it out. At least...when it comes to you," she admitted softly. "I don't know, sometimes it just feels like we _do_ work so well together that you can just read my mind...sometimes I forget that you're not that observant," she chuckled softly.

He smirked crookedly and sighed. "Yeah...I figured out this morning that I'm not," he chuckled humorlessly.

"Whaddya mean?" she cocked her head.

He shrugged a bit, taking a sip of his coffee. "You asked why I have a jealousy problem...well I figured out that I hate it because Kenny and Kyle work well together. I fucking _hate_ that they could. I could see those two fuckers making it all the way to marriage and it just...it just pisses me off so goddamn much, ya know?" he winced.

She laughed a little in confusion, "What are you talking about, Stan?"

"When you left this morning..." he frowned and scratched his hair, "Before I came to get you...I was thinking about me and Ky. About how you told me _I_ needed to be the one to talk to him, to save our friendship or whatever..."

"Right..." she nodded him on in encouragement.

"And I kept thinking about how you said I took him for granted and how I just...kinda expected him to be there...and you were right." He looked down at the table guiltily. "I kept thinking about all the times I got irritated when he wasn't just there after football practice. How it weirded me out so much when he wanted to take a break from doing our usual thing and wanting to be, uh..." he searched for the word.

"Spontaneous?" she guessed. He nodded and she chuckled, "Yeah, you _do_ need to work on that. You're definitely a creature of habit, Stan Marsh."

He ducked down sheepishly, "Guess I am. I don't _mean_ to be I just...get comfortable and don't wanna leave that area, ya know? I guess not everyone is as happy with habit as I am."

"There's nothing wrong with habitual behavior," she patted his hand a bit. "But sometimes you do need to break the mold. Now, what does _that_ have to do with Kenny and him?"

Stan bit his lip, "Have...you ever watched the two of them talking?"

"Well I mean, not studying them or anything," she shrugged. "I've _seen_ them but never sat and watched."

His eyes suddenly glazed a bit and she felt that tangle of pity beginning in her chest. "You know how we're talking now, focusing on each other but still drinking coffee or whatever?" She nodded, raising a confused brow. "Well when Kyle talks to Ken, Ken just shuts _everything_ else down," he frowned. "Like, he could be on fucking fire and still wait for Kyle to finish. I never fucking noticed that, but he's always so fucking attentive to him...and Ky's the same way. He'll push away whatever he's doing and focus solely on you..." he paused and let out a deep breath. "And I realized that when Kyle and _I_ talk, I'm always doing something else. I'll _find_ something to do if I'm not distracted already. I'm playing video games or making paper footballs or fucking playing with a hoodie string," he grabbed his own and shook it pointedly. "I guess I just never...I don't even know," he groaned, rubbing his brow bone irritably.

Wendy stared at him a few moments before chuckling quietly, "Stan, you idiot," she shook her head. He looked up at her, seemingly hurt before she held up her hand to pause his thoughts. "You know Kyle well enough to know that he doesn't talk just for the hell of it. Why on Earth wouldn't you focus on him?"

He sighed, "I don't know. I guess you just get so used to-"

"No, no that's not it," she interrupted. "I think you were afraid of getting into a _real_ conversation with him."

"What...whaddya mean?" he blinked.

She smiled gently at him, "You were afraid to make your relationship real."

"The fuck are you talking about?" he narrowed his eyes. "We _were_ in a real relationship."

"Not to you," she tilted her mug at him before taking a sip. He stared at her in bewilderment and she shrugged. "What elements do you feel were added to how you and Kyle were when you started dating?" she questioned.

"Uh, sex for one thing. And...well I love him," he winced.

She shook her head, "No. You love _best friend_ Kyle. Not _boyfriend_ Kyle. I really fucking hate to ask this, but when you two had sex, how did it feel? Was it awkward or anything?"

He shook his head, "No. Which was weird because I thought it would be. But no, I think the sex was pretty great," he shrugged.

She nodded, "Lemme ask you this: Kyle was the one to put the moves on you, right?"

He smirked, "Yeah. First time he's ever done that with _anyone_ ," he beamed a little.

"Okay, how long had you had any kind of attraction to him before then?" she raised her brow. "And was it a 'I wanna fuck you' or a 'I want you to one day be my husband' kind of attraction?"

He paused, blinking rapidly. "Well...I'd always thought he was...cute I guess," he blushed a bit awkwardly. "Ya know, small things are my type," he winked at her and she smirked, rolling her eyes. "I'd say about two years before we started actually going out I started kinda gettin' a thing for him...but I never thought anything would actually happen..." he frowned.

"So you only fantasized about it in a sexual way," she concluded. "You never thought of the two of you having a future in _any_ way besides being friends and maybe getting him to be a fuck buddy for awhile. So he came at you wanting the real deal and you just fell into it thinking that you'd just eventually get to that point, too."

He stared at her with wide blue eyes and tilted his head just slightly. "Jesus Christ when did youbecome a goddamn therapist?" he asked confusedly.

She chuckled and smiled at him, "I'm just observant. The same way that Kyle is," she reminded him. "I think he _knew_ that you just weren't going to break your habits, you weren't going to open up to him as well as he opened up for you. Maybe _that's_ why he kept around Kenny so much," she cringed a bit as his face fell guiltily again. "Maybe it was just subconsciously that he started getting closer to Kenny, who knows? But Kyle needs that in his life, and as a best friend, it's okay to just sit there and half-ass listen. But when it's a relationship, you need that person to be with you 100% or you start feeling like you just don't matter."

"So...this _is_ all my fault," he frowned, staring back at the table.

She sighed, "Stan, no. Stop that. It's _not_ all your fault...it's really barely either of yours. You two just were on two completely separate levels. Kyle wanted to hit a home run and you only wanted to take it to third. And that's _okay_. No, the way you two went about coming to your conclusion was _not_ the right way to do it. But sitting and calmly talking it out would have had the same results, Stan."

Stan sat silently, nodding at her words. "It's so hard, ya know?" he whispered. "I feel like now if we _do_ try to be friends again it's just going to be this weird-ass sexual tension or some shit."

She chuckled, "Maybe for you, but Kyle will have the emotional tension. At least for awhile. You both need to find someone to sate those particular needs and draw each other away from those elements."

"Well considering what you and I did last night I'd say I'm pretty set in my department," he smirked cockily.

Wendy rolled her eyes and groaned, "Yeah, I suppose so. But now Kyle needs to find the person to help him through what he needs. Who is..." she nodded at him expectantly.

"...Kenny," he sighed irritably. "Goddammit. How did I fucking know this was gonna happen?"

She smirked, "Hey, would you rather the two of them be together and you just be away and never involved and drift apart, or would you wanna be Kyle's best man?"

He winced and shuddered a bit, "I can _not_ see Kenny McCormick settling down."

She burst into laughter and shook her head, "you're the one that said they could make it all the way, not me." He smiled sheepishly and she winked. "You two will be just fine. I promise."

His sheepish grin turned warm and she could feel her heart melting at the sight. "Wendy, it's really... _really_ cool of you to be willing to talk about my ex with me," he chuckled. "Seriously, thanks...I'd probably just be drunk out of my goddamn mind right now if it weren't for you."

She waved dismissively, "Not a problem. I mean, as long as our relationship isn't _nothing_ but me helping you through your ex drama, I'm happy to be a temporary therapist." She sighed and her mind flashed to her own issues, a frown crossing back over her face exhaustedly. Now if only she knew how to talk _herself_ out of issues like that, she'd be set.

Stan grinned at her but it faded as he watched her shift uncomfortably. "Thinkin' about Bebe?" he asked.

She looked at him, astonished. "How the hell did-"

"Because whenever you and Bebe fight, you do that weird fidgety thing and tap your nails on you arm," he nodded.

She blinked before breaking into a soft smile, "Wow. I can't believe you can tell that."

"Well, you are _also_ a creature of habit, Wendy Testaburger," he toasted his coffee mug towards her. She laughed a bit, nodding and he waited until she settled before he continued. "I...I think we _both_ need to do something."

"Like what?" she asked.

He smiled at her crookedly, a sad glint over his eyes. "I think we both need to make some phone calls."


	14. Like a Virus

Kenny's chest was tight, his lip practically bleeding from his teeth scraping over the delicate skin. His feet pounded against the sidewalk as he made his way into downtown. Kyle's voice when he'd called spoke volumes about everything. The redhead didn't need to tell him what he saw, he could just hear it in the meekness and total defeat that overshadowed his usually strong, proud tone.

' _I'll kill that fucker I swear to fuckin' God,'_ Kenny thought, growling and baring his teeth furiously. His phone buzzed and he grabbed it out of his pocket, finding a message from Bebe: _'I'll be there in 5.'_ Ken sighed in relief, more than glad that she was just as worried about the whole circumstance as he was. God knew that Kyle needed more people than were willing to actually give him the hand he needed right now.

He rounded the corner, looking for Ronny's Diner, where Kyle had begged him to meet him at. He groaned, running his fingers through his unkempt hair and shaking his head. This was fucking ridiculous. This whole situation was way too surreal. Four days ago, life was just _fine_. How could everything turn to Hell so quickly on them?

He finally made his way to the restaurant, practically breaking through the door. He panted, looking around and finding Kyle's red hair standing out against the beige wall color. He raised his brow to see that Cartman and Butters were still with him, sitting in the opposite booth, but pushed the thoughts away. He sped over and launched down into the seat next to Kyle. "Dude, are you okay?" he asked, wincing at Kyle's broken expression.

Kyle blinked at him, shaking his head slowly. "No. No I'm not. Ken...He...Stan he..." he trailed off, breaking off their gazes and staring down at the coffee table.

"I know, Dude," he bit his lip, rubbing his shoulder. "I was actually on the way to get ya so me and Bebe could tell ya when ya called."

The boy's shoulders dropped and he sighed. "Ken...when did I get so fucking _stupid_?" he asked.

The blonde narrowed his eyes, "Ya ain't 'stupid', Ky. Stan's just a dickhead."

"I've been saying that for years but you fuckers don't listen to me," Cartman scoffed, taking a sip of soda.

"Why the fuck are you here, Fatass?" Ken raised his brow suspiciously.

The brunette shrugged, "I love seein' Kahl about to cry," he waved dismissively. Kenny snarled, going to move before Kyle pulled him back down.

"He's just saying that because he's Cartman," he rolled his eyes. "He's actually on my side."

Ken blinked in surprise, looking at the fidgeting glutton. "Seriously?"

"W-we both are," Butters piqued up. "That ain't right what Stan did to ya, Kyle."

"Tell me about it," Kyle grumbled, laying his head down on the table exhaustively. "I don't know where to go from here."

"Forward," Kenny said firmly. Green eyes flickered up to him and he could feel his heart aching from the saddened gleam overshadowing them. "Ya say 'fuck you, Marsh' and ya keep movin' on."

Kyle raised his head and frowned, "Ken...Cartman says that everyone thinks I'm a fucking slut," he twisted his face. "No one but you three seem to believe me."

"Us and Bebe," Kenny reminded him. "She's on her way."

He nodded slowly, "Good. She'll be able to tell me the best way to break into that fucking cunt's house and strangle her to death with her own hair," he sneered, clenching his fist angrily.

"Now, Kyle, d-don't," Butters cooed, grabbing his hand and opening his palm back up. "Ya don't need to make yourself bleed again."

"Yeah," Cartman nodded in agreement. "You're getting enough blood loss from your period."

"Fuck. Off. Cartman," Kyle seethed, red edging his vision. He flinched a bit as Kenny's hand went back to rubbing his shoulder, feeling a wave of calm wash over before the hurt began anew. He sighed and grabbed his coffee, taking a long, angry sip. "Goddammit. This is just...fucking stupid," he grumbled.

"Nah, _Stan_ is fuckin' stupid," Kenny said softly. "It's gonna be okay, Dude. I swear."

Kyle shifted, tapping his fingers against his mug and looking over at him in distraught. "I believed you when you said that yesterday...but now I don't know," he admitted quietly. "I-I mean...I can't believe he did that...so soon," he frowned, quickly losing his calm demeanor until Kenny's soothing hand went back to work and he sniffled a bit. "I guess I just thought better of him."

"Which was stupid," Cartman rolled his eyes. "He's a fucking pussy who rebounds like he's fuckin' Dennis Rodman. That was just shitty judgement on your part, Jew."

He shrugged, tucking some stray curls behind his ear. "Well...you're best friends with someone your whole life and you think they're the greatest thing since sliced bread," he replied. "At least that's how I thought of _him_. Apparently he thinks I'm just cheap trash," he sunk lower into the seat. Kenny watched him helplessly, trying to think of something, _anything_ to say that could pull Kyle out of the slump he was recklessly heading towards.

"Kyle!" a high, distressed voice called out. They all looked over to see Bebe hurriedly coming towards them. She pushed Kenny back into his seat and clambered on top of him, grasping the redhead in a desperate hug. "Oh, Honey," she sniffled, swinging him back and forth.

"Bebe...git off!" Kenny rasped, swatting at her arm currently lodged in his ribcage.

"Sweetie, are you all right?" she ignored the blonde, pushing some of Kyle's bangs out of his startled face.

He nodded softly, "I'll live."

She frowned, backing up off of Kenny and letting him take a grateful breath. She grabbed a chair from a table and swung it to the end of the booth, sitting down and staring at the boy thoughtfully. "Stan, however, will not," she assured him. She looked over and smirked, "Millie!" she called out.

Millie came over, dressed in her waitressing garb and smiled. "Hey, Bebe. Thought you wouldn't eat here because the cooks are so hairy," she rolled her eyes bemusedly.

"Here to plot an assassination," she shrugged innocently. Millie snorted and Bebe looked at Kyle with gentle hazel eyes. "Honey, what do you want to eat?"

He shook his head, "Nothin'. I'm fine."

She scoffed, "Get him a egg and bacon sandwich...and me and Ken some coffees, please," she requested. Millie nodded, glancing at Kyle suspiciously before heading off towards the kitchen. They stared after her before turning back to the redhead.

Kyle stared at Bebe questionably, "Why am I getting a bacon and egg sandwich?"

She chuckled, "Because Stan hates eggs _and_ it breaks Kosher. Two annoyances down in one package," she winked.

Kyle snorted a bit and shook his head. "Except my family rarely follows Kosher to begin with."

"Eh," she shrugged. "Either way, food will help."

He nodded, glancing back towards the kitchen. "Did uh, did you guys notice the way Millie was looking at me?"

"Okay, I totally thought it was just me," Kenny blinked. "She looked like ya spit in her food or some shit."

"I think I need to worry about her doing that to me," he raised his brow. "The fuck is her problem anyway?"

Bebe shrugged, "Her and Bridon are having issues, she probably looks at all guys like that right now."

He rolled his eyes and took another long sip of his coffee. "Who _isn't_ having fucking relationship drama bullshit anymore?"

"W-well me n' Eric aren't," Butters beamed proudly.

Kenny, Kyle, and Bebe backed up and Cartman blinked at him disgustedly. "Uh," Kenny narrowed his eyes a bit. "Are you two..."

"No!" Cartman snapped, slapping Butters' head. "Jesus fucking Christ, Butters, phrase shit better!"

"Well I'm sorry," he pouted, stirring his milk a bit. "I just meant that he doesn't have none and neither do I."

Kyle placed his head in his hand and cocked his brow, "Well, ya kinda have to be _in_ a relationship to have _relationship_ drama, Butters."

He blinked at him hurtfully, "I _am_! 'Member Lexus?"

"Seriously? Again?" Ken rolled his eyes. "Dude, she only flirts with ya 'cause-"

"She works at a fancy restaurant now," he interjected with a frown. "She ain't doin' that kinda work no more. We've been goin' out for 'bout five months now."

Kyle offered a weak smile and nod, "Well, that's great. Good for you, Butters. Sorry I didn't know about that."

He shrugged and patted Kyle's arm, "I don't go 'round braggin' 'bout it, so I ain't sore." He paused and looked at him carefully, "Kyle? You need t' cry?"

"No," he set his lips firmly and leaned back in his seat, staring at the table once again. "I need to kill a certain pair of black-haired assholes."

"Agreed," Bebe nodded, clinking her nail against the tabletop, glaring out the window beside them.

Kenny looked at the two of them stewing and bit his lip. Both of them seemed to be on the edge, both of them feeling beyond betrayed by their best friends. This could only end badly. "Guys," he said softly. "Ky...Dude...if you go off and...attack Stan it's only gonna make it worse," he winced.

Kyle looked up at him and blinked, "You...you think I should just...lie back and let him do whatever he wants with my reputation?"

"Your reputation?" Bebe cocked her head.

Cartman snorted, "Aren't you a cheerleader, Stevens? Figured you'd be up to date on all the Kahl gossip."

She looked at him carefully, "I try _not_ to get involved in this kind of crap. I'm making an exception for Kyle," she gestured towards him. He smiled at her gratefully and she winked.

"Didn't you know that he's the biggest slut to step foot in South Park High?" Cartman chuckled, drawing their attention back. "He's slept with every guy he could get his hands on."

Kyle frowned, "You...you didn't say that they thought I slept with other people besides Kenny. You said they thought Stan and I-"

He stopped him with a shaking head. "Nah, Jew." He pulled his phone back out of his pocket and tossed it towards the redhead. "That shit's been blowing up today."

Kyle frowned, grasping the phone and opening Cartman's messages. His face dropped slowly, his mouth gaping. " _Holy shit_ ," he whispered frantically as he scrolled through. "'Kyle hooked up with Clyde last night', 'Apparently Broflovski took Red's boyfriend three months ago and fucked him behind the bleachers', 'I heard that redheaded Jewish kid was in a gangbang a few weeks ago'?!" he read, his chest heaving in panic, his face flushing over in complete humiliation. "What the fuck is _wrong_ with these people?!" he demanded. He slid the phone back over to Cartman and slammed his face into his arms on the table.

" _Jesus fuckin'_ _ **Christ**_ _I'm gonna kill him_ ," Kenny growled under his breath, rubbing Kyle's shoulder still. "Dude, it's just rumors," he tried. "I-I'm sure it'll clear up..."

"No. No it fucking _won't_ ," Kyle raised his head slightly, his breathing deep and furious. "Remember that one girl last year who was accused of blowing the basketball team?" They all nodded confusedly. "Well, as someone _on_ the fucking basketball team, I can assure you, that didn't happen," he frowned. "But she had to fucking _transfer_ because people wouldn't leave her alone about it!" He looked up at the ceiling helplessly. "I can't believe this. I can't believe he would _do_ this to me!"

Butters cleared his throat, "Well now, I-I don't think that Stan started all those rumors, Kyle."

He looked back down at him, sending the blonde jumping back against his seat as the stoney glare of jade cut into him. "Yes, actually, he did," he said angrily. "He said that we fucked on Token's counter at his party. He fucking started the idea that I'm easy. Then we break up and all of a sudden all these fucking stories come out of nowhere?! You think that's just _coincidence,_ Stotch?!"

"N-no, Sir. I guess I don't," he mumbled, tapping his fingertips together nervously.

Bebe leaned forward, softly putting her hand on Kyle's tensed forearm. "Kyle, Sweetie, Butters isn't your enemy," she reminded him gently. "I know you're upset, but you can't get angry at him for trying to make you feel better."

He looked at her for a moment before clearing his throat and nodding, "Sorry, Butters," he muttered.

"It's not a problem," he insisted. "Kyle, this ain't right. Stan's, well, well he's an asshole, that's what he is," he said firmly.

"Ain't that the understatement of the century," Kenny scoffed. "So, how do we kill him? I'm thinkin' knives."

Kyle looked at him with a quirked brow, "What happened to 'attacking him will make it worse'?"

Kenny frowned, looping his arm around Kyle's tensed shoulders. "I didn't know this shit was spreadin' that quick. It's like a goddamn stomach flu."

"How fitting considering how nauseated I feel," Kyle said miserably. He leaned in against Kenny and took a deep breath. "What can I do? I can't stop the fucking rumors. I can't tell Stan he _can't_ fuck Wendy or whatever...Do I really just need to lie back and let all this happen?" He paused looking at the group of them carefully. "Guys, you four are the _only_ ones on my side, at least, the only ones who wouldn't bullshit me. Do I take this up with Stan or do I just try to get through the year hiding?"

They all looked at each other before Bebe cleared her throat, "I think...maybe you... _should_ try to talk to Stan. Not yell and scream. But talk."

Kenny nodded along, "Yeah. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'd love t' wrangle Stan's fuckin' throat but...you need to let him know what he's done to ya," he winced. "That asshole's gotta be held responsible."

"But you know Stan," Kyle insisted. "I could get it proven in a court of law that it's his fault and he still wouldn't think so."

"Which is _why_ you shouldn't say a damn thing to him," Cartman rolled his eyes. "You're not exactly super important to the school, Kahl. Your reputation being fucked up isn't going to affect anybody but you."

Kyle scowled, "Well I'm kind of the biggest factor, Fatass. And what if...what if I decide to date someone else?" he cleared his throat, shifting in Kenny's grasp and making the blonde bite his lip anxiously. "Then their reputation is trashed, too."

"Who, like Kinny?" Cartman guffawed as the two of them began to glow bright red. "Like he has much of a rep anyway," he scoffed. Kenny grabbed a couple of sugar packets and wailed them at the brunette's head, rolling his eyes as Cartman continued laughing.

Bebe looked at the two huddled up together carefully, "Are...are you two thinking about-"

"Not now," Kenny held up his hand to stop her, his icy blue eyes pleading for her to drop the subject. She nodded slowly and sighed, shaking her head. Kenny cleared his throat, tightening his grip around Kyle for reasons that he couldn't even begin to imagine himself as he looked at Butters. "All right, Stotch. Two to one, what should Kyle do?"

Butters shifted uncomfortably and shrugged, "Well...I ain't the confrontin' type, Fellas, you know that. And...I don't think you talkin' to Stan is gonna make a difference, Kyle," he winced.

Kyle stared at him and nodded slowly, "Why do you say that?"

"Well...Stan's...stubborn as a mule, ya know?" he shrugged. "A-and he's popular...he ain't gonna want no one t' know that he was lyin'. I think it'll just humiliate ya even more."

"But he could get the anger off his chest," Bebe argued. "He can't spend the rest of the year being hated and having thongs thrown on him at his valedictorian speech!"

Kyle snorted, quirking his brow, "You think I'm going to be valedictorian?"

"Well who the fuck else would be?" Kenny shrugged.

The redhead scowled, "A certain bitch by the name of Wendy Testaburger, that's who. She's always trying to compete with me. Grades, clubs, volunteer groups...Stan..." he trailed off softly with a sigh. "She...she bested me. The bitch finally did it..." he bit his lip and looked over the group again. "Tied up and no overtime," he grumbled.

Kenny looked at him sadly and clung onto him tighter, "Ky, it'll be all ri-" he paused as a plate flew past his head and smacked into Kyle's face.

"JESUS FUCK!" Kyle screamed, holding his injured eye and glancing up to see Millie staring at him furiously.

"Millie, what the hell!" Bebe shouted, reaching over and trying to pick egg out of Kyle's hair.

The strawberry-blonde leaned over, glaring at Kyle. "Touch my man again, and the next time it'll be the coffee pot," she warned before pivoting and storming back into the kitchen.

The group watched after her with dropped jaws, Kyle finally bringing his hand off his face and trembling. Kenny cupped his chin and tilted his face into the light, frowning. "You're gonna have a nice bruise here," he gently brushed over his brow bone.

"I-I...I haven't even spoken to...to Bridon since..." Kyle fumbled, looking down at the spilled sandwich, desperately searching for his answers.

"Honey, it's gonna be okay," Bebe assured him worriedly. "Millie's just fucking stupid, okay?"

"Apparently so am I," he said blankly. "I trusted that...fucking bastard and he..." he growled and slammed his fist onto the table. "That whole 'marry your best friend' thing?" he snarled. "Don't fucking do it. Don't date them. Don't try to take it any further. And _definitely_ don't fall in love with them!" Kenny awkwardly took his arm off of Kyle's shoulders and the redhead looked up at him guiltily. "Kenny, I-I didn't mean-" he stopped as a ringing interrupted them.

Kenny said a silent thank you, reaching into his pocket to grab the culprit. He raised his brow, holding it towards the redhead. "It uh-it's yours," he said.

Kyle grabbed it, staring at Stan's name blinking across the screen. He took a deep breath, looking at the group watching him intensively. He dropped his vision down to the plate and scattered food on the table. He bit his lip and shook his head. He glanced up at Kenny's heartbroken expression, feeling that anger starting to rear its ugly head again. "Kenny?" he asked, letting the phone continue vibrating in his hand. "Will you walk me home?"

The blonde blinked, "Yeah, sure, Ky."

The redhead nodded, glancing back at the device in his palm and sighing. He quickly cancelled the call and shut the phone off, slamming it down on the table and shaking his head. An angry mutter slipped out under the bustle of the restaurant around them from the distressed boy, the remaining four looking at each other with heavy eyes: "Fuck you, Marsh."


	15. On the Opposite Shore

Stan stared at his phone, brows furrowed as he pushed Kyle's contact information again for maybe the fortieth time in a row. A pause. " _Hi, this is Kyle, sorry I-,"_ he hung up and sighed irritably, looking over to see Wendy trying her luck with Bebe again, slamming her phone down and giving him the same aggravated expression back. "What do we do now?" he asked softly.

She got to her feet, snagging her purse from her chair. "We go talk to them face to face. That was the end goal, regardless. Let's just skip the middle step." He nodded, hopping up as well and snagging his wallet out of his pocket, walking to the front counter with Wendy in tow. He handed the cashier their receipt and his debit card, looking at her with tired eyes.

"Man. They're _really_ mad, aren't they?" he sighed.

She shrugged, shifting her weight between her feet. "Well I mean…I can only assume Bebe told Kyle what we did. How would you feel if someone came up and told you that Kyle really _did_ sleep with Kenny?"

He paused, looking at the counter and mechanically thanking the cashier as she handed his card back, shoving it into his wallet and beginning to lead the way out the door. "Like smashing someone's face into pavement I guess," he shrugged. "I shouldn't but I guess that'd just be my initial reaction, you know?"

She nodded, linking her arm through his as they made their way onto the street. "Yeah, I'm sure that Kyle's already imagining how to murder me," she sighed.

"Be careful. He's small but he can fight," he chuckled. "He probably could get you if he really wanted to."

She smiled weakly, "Yeah, but we both know that Kyle likes to take the logical approach to situations, he doesn't tend to get violent."

"But he screams until he nearly passes out," he ran his fingers through his hair and sighed again. "I was really hoping to get to talk to him before the news hit him, ya know?"

She bit her glossed lip guiltily, tugging on him and pulling him in just a little closer. Yeah but…I don't know. Would it really have been better for him to learn it from you? I mean, either way would be hard, but having your ex come up and say 'oh hey I slept with someone I hope that's chill' would be pushing it just a little far, dontcha think?" she winced.

He let that sink in for a moment before nodding in agreement. "Yeah I guess. Or at least I wanted to get us on decent terms first…then let someone _else_ tell him."

"I'm not sure what option would have been better," she admitted quietly. "Now he thinks that you're just a heartless bastard, if he'd found out after you two worked on making amends, he'd feel like he could never trust you again."

"Hell, I may already be on that level," he muttered, his shoulders sinking. This was ridiculous. He was so goddamn tired of this. If Stan could just have his way, he'd fast forward time and land to where the talk had happened, the hurt was lessened, and he could look at Kyle and Kenny without wanting to scream and attack them. But he knew it just wasn't going to happen like that. His life never seemed to give him any easy outs no matter how hard he prayed.

"Marsh! Testaburger!" a voice called to the both of them. They whirled around, finding Token, Clyde, Craig, and Tweek standing together behind them on the sidewalk.

"Hey guys," Stan weakly waved, noticing with a tilted head Tweek and Craig's hands intertwined. Apparently Kenny blurting things out didn't fuck things up for them nearly as badly as it did for their own group…

The four of them walked over towards them, brows all cocked suspiciously. "Dude, you two are back together?" Token gestured between the two of them. "Bebe didn't say anything about that."

"Bebe's busy with Kyle," Wendy mumbled, looking away from him and recalling the horrible way she'd questioned his loyalty to Bebe in their fight.

"Kyle?" he repeated, narrowing his eyes. "Oh really? Because if he's trying to get back with _my_ girlfriend, I'll fucking kill him."

Stan waved his hands in front of him. "No. Kyle and Bebe are just on decent terms. Trust me, Kyle is very much against the existence of the vagina," he rolled his eyes.

"Ain't that the truth," Clyde snorted. Stan looked at him and cocked his head at his tone.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

The group across from them looked at each other, each asking the desperate question. Craig sighed, making the decision for the lot of them. He cleared his throat and fished his phone out of his pocket, tossing it over to Stan. "Open the messages," he directed.

Stan and Wendy glanced at each other before turning down to the device in his hand, doing as Craig instructed. Their mouths slowly dropped, finding a good long group of messages as they scrolled through, nothing but a consistent gossiping all about Kyle's 'endeavors'. "The fuck is this?!" Stan screamed. "Is any of this true?!"

They all shrugged. "Well," Clyde chuckled. "One says that it was me and him and I can guarantee that isn't the case. Me and Annie were out all night," he assured him. "But I don't know, could be, though knowing Kyle I very highly doubt it," he shrugged again.

"Oh no," Wendy bemoaned, putting her hand over her mouth. This was her fault. This was all her fault and she damn well knew it.

Stan could see the wheels turning in her mind and made quick work to throw Craig's phone back to him and put his hands on her shoulders. "Wends, this isn't because of us, okay?" he assured her. "This is people just taking something too far when they don't know the whole story."

Token cleared his throat and Stan looked back at him, his blue eyes drowning in culpability. "Stan…you kinda…started it," he winced. Stan's jaw dropped in shock and he waved his hands in front of him. "Don't get me wrong, hear me out first," he elaborated. He took a deep breath, knowing that he was walking a fine line. Stan could lose his temper nearly as easy as Kyle, he had to take this slow. "When Kyle was mad at you for lying about you two…getting together at my party…I think it was because he was afraid of, well, that," he said, gesturing to Craig's phone still in his hand. "I don't know if it was just because you lied about him, but Kyle knows how fast this kind of stuff gets around…" he trailed off awkwardly, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Shit," he spat, taking his hands off of Wendy and pacing the short width of the sidewalk, his fingers running through his dark hair frantically. "Shit shit SHIT!" Token was right. _Kyle_ was right. He fucked up. He fucked up so goddamn _bad_.

Clyde watched his friend beginning to unravel and stepped up, "Hold on," he said, waiting for Stan to slow his walk and his shattered expression to find the brunette's again. "Look, Stan, you started it, fine. Shit happens," he frowned. "But the fact of the matter is this kind of shit happens to _every_ couple in goddamn high school, okay? People start rumors and they spin out of control."

"But this isn't just a rumor!" he protested. "This is…completely destroying Kyle reputation! I mean, shit, _I_ should be the one being grounded into the dirt, not him!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands above his head in exasperation. "Fuck!"

"Stan, calm down," Wendy insisted, though her own mind was swimming with complete panic. Was there any way to undo _this_ disaster?

He looked at her and she felt her heart lurching again at those broken eyes. "Wends, Kyle will _never_ forgive me for this! I can't undo this! I can't fucking talk to him and tell him 'well hey I didn't start those don't get angry at me'," he bit his lip, dropping his gaze in defeat at the ground. He didn't know what to do. He knew. He never should have lied to begin with. Why did he need to boost his fucking ego like that? Kyle was right, it's not like he made him wait for years before they did anything…He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose hard enough he was almost sure that he was going to destroy his sinuses. Not that he didn't feel that he didn't deserve it.

"S-Stan?" Tweek's voice broke out timidly. He looked up at him, seeing the jittery blonde clasping onto Craig's hand like his lifeline. He remembered when Kyle used to do that for him when the world was starting to topple on top of him…He shook it off and cleared his throat, nodding him on. "Well…if I was Kyle…I-I'd want you to be honest, ya know?" he cringed, ready to leap behind Craig as a meat shield if necessary. "I think –gah!- you should talk to him, hm?" he twitched a bit, sniffling and grating his lip frantically.

"What can I even say to him?" he asked softly, his body trying to collapse from the inside out. "I can't just tell him to get over it or that people will forget or to ignore it or whatever…" he sighed, shaking his head. "Kyle doesn't deserve this. Goddammit." His hand went to soothingly rub Wendy's back, who was shaking like a leaf, her morals beginning to unravel her reserve. Craig, Clyde, Tweek, and Token all four looked at Stan's hand and then at each other curiously. Each of them seeming to come to the same conclusion all at once: They were on the wrong side of this fucking fight.

"You're right, he doesn't," Craig raised his brow. Stan looked at him and the opposing noirette offered him a shrug. "I ain't Broflovski's friend, not by a mile. But he's too much of a goody-goody for this shit if McCormick's rants about him are true."

Stan concealed his growl at Kenny's name, knowing full and well that the blonde was probably the only thing even close to the possibility of holding Kyle together right now. He'd just have to accept that fact, jealousy be damned. Better to have Kenny with him than let Kyle spiral so deep into depression and isolation that nothing would be able to rescue him. He looked over at Wendy again who was digging her nails into her arms anxiously. "No wonder they won't talk to us," he said softly.

Craig scoffed, "Or maybe it's because you two sluts are already fuckin' each other. That probably ain't doing Broflovski any favors, either."

The two of them cringed, looking at the ground and filled with a horrid torrent of accountability once more. "We know," Wendy said softly. "We…we want to talk to him and Bebe a-and figure something out, come to a consensus, ya know?"

Clyde snorted, "Consensus?" he repeated. "What? 'Kyle, you just wallow in your misery and continue to be South Park High's biggest known slut, even though you haven't done a goddamn thing, and we're just gonna keep doin' each other and live happily ever after?' You think Kyle of all people's going to take that sitting down?"

"According to rumors he shouldn't even be capable of sitting down at this point," Token smirked, letting it fall when he caught Stan's furious glare. He blinked and shrugged, "You broke up with him, Marsh. I can say shit like that now."

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't say it around me," he hissed. "I still care about him, a fucking _lot_. Remember how I was _before_ the two of us were dating?" They all nodded slowly, remembering a handful of times that Stan had been Kyle's valiant knight, defending his honor at every turn, even though Kyle never knew about it. Clyde, Token, and Craig had all three been on the receiving end of his anger more than once. Though watching Stan now, they had to wonder if he actually cared enough to leap to the redhead's defense out of an actual caring nature. "Yea, keep that shit up and we're gonna go right back to that," he frowned.

Token cleared his throat, nodding. "Sorry. I know Kyle's not like that. You know that I know…" he shifted uncomfortably and crossed his arms. "Can I…offer some advice?" he winced.

The both of them nodded briskly, "Anything," Stan said. "We're desperate here."

He set his lips and nodded, "Okay then. You need to talk to Kyle and _you_ need to talk to Bebe," he pointed at Wendy. "She's told me all about your little bitch fits about Stan and you've been driving her mad for years. Betraying Kyle when they're friends just broke the camel's back, Testaburger."

"I know," she whispered, her gray eyes falling listlessly to the sidewalk.

"And," he continued, "You two need to talk to them _away_ from each other. At least, Wendy, you can't be there when Stan talks to Kyle."

They both blinked at him. "Why not?" Wendy asked indignantly, putting her hands on her hips. "I have every right to give my side of the-"

"No, you don't," Craig cut in curtly. "This is between Marsh and Broflovski. You being there is going to corner him again."

Stan sighed, "I guarantee Kenny will be there. Why can't I have my backup, too?"

"Because you're not the one who _needs_ backup!" Tweek insisted to everyone's shock. "Stan! You broke up with him, s-slept with Wendy, and now all these people a-are saying these things about him?!" he waved his arm around hysterically, letting Craig gently catch it and bring it back down to his side, trembling in his place. "How has this affected you negatively?!" he demanded, his eye twitching madly. Tweek wasn't ever one for taking sides, but Kyle had always treated him like a friend, Stan always pushing him out of the way to get to his football buddies. Not to the point where he was cruel, but he knew that Kyle was a lot kinder to those on the lower levels than Stan had ever been. He assumed it happened merely out of Kyle's poor social standing, but he always appreciated it when Kyle made him a fresh cup of coffee whenever he spilled his in a fit.

Stan stared at him, a bit slack-jawed. "I-I…the breakup…hurt m-me…too," he fumbled out, getting a resounding eyeroll from the group across from them.

"Yeah, must be _real_ painful with your dick up in her cunt," Craig jerked his head at Wendy, whose face blanched completely. "I mean I _know_ that it's probably drier than the fuckin' Sahara, but at least you had someone. Don't be a fucking pussy, Marsh," he scowled.

"What do _you_ care?!" Stan asked angrily, his temper beginning to stampede onto him. "You don't even like Kyle!"

"I like him better than I like you. At least he's honest, and to a hell of a fault," he replied cooly, grasping Tweek's hand and starting to lead him away down the sidewalk. The remaining four watched after them before Token and Clyde turned back to face the couple looking completely devastated.

"He's not honest!" Stan screamed after him. "He knew Kenny liked him and didn't say a fucking thing to me!" Craig merely flipped him off with his free hand, not giving the boiling noirette a second glance.

Token cleared his throat again. "Uh, okay but…Kyle wasn't the one who held onto feelings for someone and slept with them a few hours later. He'd never do that to you, especially considering how upset he was yesterday. Think about that, Marsh," he cocked his brow before turning and sauntering after the other two, leaving only Clyde to stare at them.

"Well?" Wendy demanded, angry tears threatening to pour down her eyes. "Are _you_ going to come after us, too?"

He shrugged, "Anything I say can't be worse than what you two are thinking of yourselves," he said quietly. "Token and I will do what we can to get rid of the rumors around Kyle, because he doesn't deserve that kind of shit…You two…" he sighed and shook his head before straightening up, staring Stan straight on. "Stan, I hope she's worth it," he said sharply, turning on his heel and hurrying after his friends, leaving Stan and Wendy standing together in a deafening silence.

"I didn't know Kyle had so many other people on his side," Wendy whispered, reaching over and grasping Stan's hand firmly.

He sighed, watching the receding group and squeezing her fingers tightly. "He doesn't. But…I guess all those rumors about him sleeping around kind of proved what they think of us," he jerked his head towards the four of them.

"Whaddya mean?"

He looked at her, smiling sadly. "No one has sympathy for people like us."


	16. Down the Beaten Path

The two of them sat in Kyle's bedroom, blankly staring at his laptop at the foot of the bed as it played a playlist of random Youtube videos. They simultaneously looked at each other, each reaching for the right thing to say before Kyle finally sighed, irritably scratching his fingers up through his hair. "Shit, Kenny, I'm fucking sorry," he muttered, hiding his face under his palms.

"Forrr?" he raised his brow.

"What I said at the restaurant," he elaborated miserably. "I didn't mean it."

The blonde couldn't help but chuckle a bit, wrapping his arm around Kyle's shoulders and shaking him. "Dude, dude. I get it. Shit's bad fer ya right now. You could tell me ya hate me n' to go die and I'd know ya wouldn't mean it."

"I wouldn't do that," he said softly, lowering his hands and looking at him pitiably.

Kenny smiled sadly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his flask, shaking it in front of Kyle's nose. "Ya look like ya need it."

The redhead hesitated before letting out a lengthy sigh and grasping the metal container, genially twisting off the top. "I shouldn't be encouraging you to carry this around," he chuckled softly, raising it to his lips and taking a long sip. His nose scrunched and he stuck out his tongue as he swallowed, shuddering as it worked its way down in a blazing scorch. "The fuck is this?" he rasped.

"Moonshine," he snickered, taking the flask back and giving himself a nice, long sip. He sighed contentedly, the bristles running up his spine a delectable treat.

"The fuck happened to whiskey or something a little less cliche for your accent, Ken?" he asked dryly, pushing the drink away as Kenny offered it back.

He shrugged, "I drink what I can find, Dude. Found a bottle of this stashed at my house and now I'm a very happy Kenny," he grinned cheekily.

Kyle sighed, shaking his head. "Can I ask a question?"

"Go ahead," he waved him on, his thumb rubbing over the smooth metal clasped in his hand.

"Why do you drink so much?"

Kenny stared at him for a moment before clearing his throat and taking another long sip. "Ya know...parents and whatnot. Life sucks and all that fun stuff."

Kyle narrowed his eyes a bit, turning in his seat and staring at Kenny with those sharp eyes that a part of the blonde couldn't help but fear. "You're lying," Kyle stated simply. Ken cursed to himself, knowing that Kyle could read him better than anyone. The redhead reached over and slammed his laptop shut, taking a deep breath before redirecting his green gaze back onto his friend. "Ken, tell me the truth."

He shrugged, giving himself another swig and biting his lip nervously. "Just...stuff caught up with me."

"Stuff like me," he said quietly. Kenny shrugged and Kyle fell back onto his bed, covering his face like a child yet again. "Jesus fucking _Christ_ I'm fucking up _everyone's_ lives, aren't I?"

"No, no, no!" Kenny interjected worriedly, closing his flask and tossing it onto Kyle's nightstand. He reached down and pulled the redhead back upright, staring at him sadly. "Dude, it's not your fault, okay?" Kyle looked at him guiltily and he shook his head. "Ky, I I _swear_ it ain't yours."

"Then why are you looking at me like that?" he asked sadly, seeing the absolute devastation in his eyes. Kenny tried to find his answer but couldn't, his body slumping defeatedly. This was too much. This was all just too goddamn much. He looked up as Kyle scooted up on his knees in front of him, tipping his chin back up to look at him straight on. "Kenny," he said firmly. "You said you wouldn't give me an answer for two months, right?"

He nodded, "Right."

"Then don't answer me," he whispered, leaning forward and pressing his lips firmly against Kenny's. The blonde choked in shock, eyes widening as a burst of energy slammed into his body. He knew he should pull back, he _knew_ he shouldn't be doing what he was criticizing Stan for. But fuck it all if this wasn't what he so desperately wanted. He let his eyes slip shut, feeling Kyle's arms wrapping around his neck, holding him closely. His own limbs snaked around Kyle's slender waist, pulling him flush against his chest. Ken let out a shaky breath, his mouth opening enough for Kyle to push his tongue in through his teeth. He brought his hand up Kyle's back and threaded it through his hair, wrapping his fingers through the soft curls. Every nerve was on complete fire, his chest was tightening in a way that he was sure would suffocate him, but he welcomed it. He welcomed _anything_ that came through this moment.

The delicious taste of Kyle was all over his tongue, his nose filled to the brim with the sensual spice of the redhead. He was a drug, nothing but a complete intoxication that Kenny was helplessly addicted to. But he yearned for it, he wanted it _all._

However, common sense suddenly ravished the blonde and he shook his head, pulling back from Kyle and panting with him. He watched Kyle's eyes widen, as though realizing what he'd just done. "I-I..." he tried, faltering and dropping his vision to his hands, now pulled from Kenny and curled into fists atop his thighs. "Shit I'm..." he shut his eyes, his mind screaming bloody murder at him. Kyle didn't act impulsive. That just wasn't his shtick and it never had been. Why did it have to choose _now_ to pop up?! He bit his lip, refusing to look at the dumbfounded blonde, "Please don't hate me," he whimpered.

"I could never hate you," he said softly, his heart still spiraling out of control. He was dancing on clouds, pirouetting around the eye of the storm. He was so damn _close_ to the comfort he longed for...but the hurricane that was Stan was still raging between the both of them. "Ky," he said, grabbing his chin back and pulling his face up, feeling his heart drop at the complete loss and humiliation in his eyes. "Kyle, it's okay," he assured him.

"No, it's not," he whispered. "I'm doing exactly what I hate Stan for doing."

Kenny frowned, "Last time I checked, we ain't naked." Kyle's face dropped more and he sniffled, clutching around himself. "C'mere," Kenny said quietly, moving over and grasping him in a hug. "It's fine. Everything's fine."

Kyle shook his head, hiding his face in Kenny's shoulder. "Why am I such a fuck up?" he asked, his voice cracking horrendously.

"Yer not," he said, petting through his hair, a part of him completely lost. Kyle didn't get like this. He didn't know how to handle him, it seemed as though the redhead were actually breaking. He had no idea what it would take to fix him.

"Then why did he sleep with Wendy?" he sobbed, quickly losing his control and clutching around Kenny desperately. "Why did he leave m-me for _her_? And w-why did I just kiss you?"

The last question practically stabbed Kenny's heart straight through and he gulped, wishing that his moonshine was within grabbing distance of Kyle's needed comfort. "I don't know," he said honestly, mindlessly stroking his curls. "God, Ky I don't know _any_ of that."

Kyle broke from his shoulder a bit, looking up at Kenny with glassy, bloodshot eyes that sent the blonde into a spiral of sympathy he didn't even know he could still conjure. "I'm sorry," he repeated.

"Don't be," he sighed, just wishing he had the easy answers here to guide them through this mess. To punch Stan in the face and bid it all a good day or something so simple would be lovely. But he knew just as well as Kyle: this shit was just getting worse. He looked at the redhead and offered a small, crooked smile. "What can I do to make ya feel better?" he asked.

Kyle blinked at him before shrugging. "Tell me something good," he echoed weakly.

Ken smirked, looking at the ceiling thoughtfully. "Well, you're an awesome kisser," he teased. Kyle went beet read before slowly breaking into laughter, hiding his face in his hands childishly. Kenny couldn't help but join him, the both of them gradually moving towards snorting hysterically, leaning against each other and barely able to catch their breath.

Kyle finally sat up after a good five minutes of their romp and playfully punched Kenny's arm. "You jackass."

"Hey, I said you were awesome, it was a compliment," he winked. He leaned back against Kyle's wall and looked at him questionably. "Can I ask why you did it, though?"

His smile dropped a bit and he cleared his throat. "I...I don't know. It just kind of happened...are you mad at me?" he cringed.

"Trust me, not in the slightest," he assured him. "I enjoyed myself. Are you mad at you?"

He blinked, "I don't know," he repeated.

He sat up again and leaned his chin into his hand. "Did you _like_ it?"

Kyle scoffed, "Stop using my misery to feed your ego, McCormick."

Kenny laughed and punched his arm back. "Dude, it's a legitimate question. I've been told that I'm slobbery, can you verify?"

"Oh my god," he blushed and looked away from him. "No, you're not. It was fine."

"Just fiiiiine?" he teased, sliding up and poking his shoulder. He knew he shouldn't be doing this to the boy, but having Kyle embarrassed instead of sobbing was definitely a step up.

Kyle looked at him with a shy smile, "It was nice, okay? Back off."

"Hm," he mused with a small chuckle. "Sorry, but that's going to take my ego higher than anythin' else ever could," he poked his rosy cheek a bit. "Well, aside from someone tellin' me my cock is great. _That's_ the greatest honor one can bestow upon me."

Kyle raised his brow a bit before laughing again, shaking his head. "Ken, did you never learn the art of tact?"

"Eh," he shrugged, waving the notion away. "When ya grow up like me, ya learn t' say whatcha want because who gives a flyin' fuck otherwise?"

"So you want to talk about your dick around me? Is that it?" he teased.

Kenny smirked, elbowing him a bit, "I talk about my dick to everyone, but you git the full stories."

"Lucky me," he rolled his eyes. He smiled sadly and sighed. "Ken, I'm so fucking lost right now. I don't feel like myself."

"Well, lemme be your compass," he shrugged, nudging him again. "Yer gonna be fine, Dude. So ya acted a little impulsive, so what? Sometimes ya gotta. And you, Broflovski, have a _lot_ of impulses t' catch up on."

He tilted his head, "Whaddya mean?"

"I mean yer too logical," he snorted. "Lemme ask ya a hypothetical." Kyle nodded slowly, his brow raising. "Let's say...yer at a party. There's this guy there, hot as hell. Yer single, ready t' mingle, and he's givin' ya the eyes. Whaddya do?"

Kyle blinked and shrugged. "I-I don't know...talk to him?" he winced.

"And what would ya say?" he challenged.

"Uh...," he bit his lip and shrugged again. "Hi?"

"Why not say nothin', wink, n' point to the door?" he asked. "Ky, you'd be standin' there thinkin' about how you'd get shot down, ya wouldn't go for it until the guy thought ya weren't interested."

He tucked a few curls behind his ear, staring down at his comforter tiredly. "I like to be grounded _before_ I take a leap, ya know?" he said quietly. "That's why Stan drove me nuts. We were situated and I wanted to...get on the road," he sighed. "Stan wanted to sit on the couch and watch a movie about someone _else_ getting on the road. It's nice to have something where even if you fuck up, there's still that one element that makes it okay."

"Whaddya mean?" he cocked his brow.

Kyle situated himself facing Ken, sitting with his legs crossed and a serious glint over his eyes. "Let's say you and I became a thing," he said, watching Kenny's eyes flash with hope and gulping. "We're together for...I don't know, five months," he waved his hand aimlessly. "We're to the point where we know we're fairly stable and know we _can_ work as a couple, right?"

"Right," he nodded slowly.

"And one day we say 'hey, you know what'd be fun? Going to Denver for the day' or something. We go out and our car breaks the fuck down, we're stranded at some shitty-ass motel waiting for it to be fixed. What would _you_ want to do in that situation?"

Kenny chuckled a bit and shrugged, "If you're goin' for honesty, I'd defile the fuck out of that motel room until I could defile ya in the car again."

Kyle snorted and shook his head, "See? That's something that _I_ would want in that situation, too...Stan would...just bitch," his face twisted into a frown. "Hell, getting him on the road to begin with would be a chore..." he paused, biting his lip. "Do you remember when Stan and I went up to Boulder for my stupid paper reading at that museum?"

He nodded briskly, "Yeah. I remember how ya didn't wanna talk about it. I figured yer paper just didn't go over well," he shrugged.

"Quite the contrary," he rolled his eyes. "It went great. But our bus back home was delayed about five hours from that huge blizzard. You know what Stan did while I'm fucking sitting on the bed fucking staring at him?"

"I'm almost afraid to ask," he blinked.

"He played on his phone. For _five fucking hours_ , Ken. I'm literally poking him, trying to get his attention, and he's playing fucking Angry Birds or some shit," he scowled. "Because _that's_ what he was doing on the bus ride there, even when-" he paused and shook his head briskly, a blush riding his cheeks. "Never mind, but he-"

"Whooaa," he held up his hand with a smirk. "Ya gotta tell me, Ky. Ya can't pass somethin' that made ya red like that up with me and you know it."

Kyle groaned, putting his forehead into his palm and taking a deep breath. "I tried giving him a fucking blowjob on the bus and he pushed me away for his phone."

Kenny stared at him in shock, some deep part of him offended beyond belief _for_ Kyle. "Dude. What the fuck."

"He likes his routine," he sighed. "He planned on playing on his phone once my speech was done and he did. You guys tease _me_ about being OCD about my school stuff but at least when it comes to my home life, I like to expand my horizons now and again, ya know?" he winced.

Ken nodded a little, "Even then yer pretty stable."

"Right," he agreed. "And that goes back to the random party guy, I'm not one for things like that," he shrugged. "I'd rather walk away with nothing than lose my dignity, too in case he's like, 'Dude, I thought you were a chick or something," he rolled his eyes. He pouted while Kenny burst into laughter and crossed his arms. "It isn't funny, it's happened before," he muttered.

"Damn them child-bearin' hips of yours," he teased, poking his hip bone. He snorted at Kyle's unamused face and patted his shoulder. "Ky, I get it," he said. "I really do. The _only_ impulsive thing I've seen ya do was goin' after Stan."

"And even _that_ was months of me plotting every single minute detail," he scoffed. "What a waste of my time..." he looked up at Kenny and sighed. "Were you like that with me? Or was it really impulse when you told me how you felt?"

He shrugged, "Little bit of A, little bit of B. Took about four drinks t' _get_ the courage t' tell ya, but there was some plannin' in there, I swear," he smiled lopsidedly. "But most things I do, I do 'cause why not?"

Kyle stared at him for a bit, smiling softly. "I wish I could be like that," he admitted. "I wish that I didn't need the stability _before_ throwing caution to the wind."

The blonde flicked his arm softly, "Kissin' me was a good start. A _very_ good start," he winked. "But...if ya only want stability first, then I dunno what t' tell ya fer that one," he shrugged.

Kyle took a deep breath, looking at his comforter and shrugging. "Maybe you're the impulsive break I need," he said softly, scraping his finger along a line of stitching. "Because you _are_ stable in my life, just not in that way," he bit his lip. Kenny stared at him in shock, his heart on the verge of palpitating right out of his chest.

He forced himself to speak again, the silence of the room getting to them both in the moment. "What is it...yer wantin', Ky?" he asked quietly.

Kyle's shoulders slumped a bit, refusing to look up at the blonde. "To go back in time," he answered. "And to choose you instead."

The act of breathing suddenly became a chore, Kenny's hands quaking on his lap. Was this just Kyle's broken heart talking? Was this _true_? Every single possibility was flying through his head at a breakneck speed, a giant lump caught in his throat. Jesus, he was making this hard. He wanted to grab him and throw him down and just live out his fantasies right then and there... _God_ , he wanted to. "I don't know what t' say," he whispered nervously.

Kyle shrugged, "You don't have to say anything...And if I just made us awkward then you can go and I won't blame you."

"I ain't goin' anywhere," he said firmly. He scooted closer to the redhead, placing a finger under his chin and tilting his head up, completely taken aback by the embarrassment and the _need_ hiding in those green eyes. "I ain't gonna answer ya for two months when it comes t' bein' a couple," he repeated, emphasizing it more for himself than Kyle, who looked like he was sinking fast. "But if you wanna be impulsive _without_ stability, I ain't gonna stop ya...'cause god knows I couldn't even if I wanted to."

The two of them stared at each other, completely lost in the moment with nothing but the sound of the air conditioner blowing around them. Every thought came from every angle until they were both drowning in it all. Kyle suddenly broke through the surface, latching their lips together and pressing Kenny down onto the bed, landing on top of him. Kenny moaned softly, letting his hands run up and down Kyle's body, their tongues swirling around each other fluidly. It was a complete rush for the both of them; the unfamiliarity, the hypocrisy, the wonderfully risque feeling of it all. Kyle's hands traced up Kenny's chest, reaching up and cupping his chin. Kenny's own landed on Kyle's ass, squeezing the skin and losing his mind at Kyle's soft moan falling into his mouth.

Kyle pushed his hips down onto the blonde's, Ken arching back up in return. Fingers traced along the unfamiliar bodies, exploring each bump of skin and trace of fine hairs like expert cartographers. Their hips kept pushing down against one another's, heated skin pushing against each other through their jeans and creating such incredible friction it nearly winded the both of them. Kenny's hormones took over his hesitancy, fingers sliding up Kyle's shirt and digging his nails into the boy's slimmed back. Kyle moved his mouth down to the blonde's neck, scraping his teeth against the skin, encouraging his curious wanderings.

" _Jesus,_ " Ken whispered as Kyle's lips latched onto his ear, nibbling his lobe and minty breath washing over his face. He gasped openly as Kyle's hands drifted to his waistband, fingering over the button of his jeans.

"I can stop," Kyle said, nipping under his ear.

"Please don't," he begged, his body in complete overdrive from the graceful motions of Kyle's fingers. He nearly cried as Kyle undid his button, feeling his cock trying to poke through as he slowly ripped down the zipper. The back of Kyle's hand brushed over the throbbing skin and Ken was _sure_ he was going to die right then and there. Kyle leaned up a bit, smirking at him with a dark glaze over his eyes that Kenny had no idea could ever exist on the redhead's face. He was completely entranced, his breath hitching as Kyle kissed his lips again before moving down and pecking his cheek, working his way down his neck and torso until-

Kenny's mouth fell open as a warm tongue slid over his cock, tracing up the way and circling around the head. Kyle was nearly thrown over by the completely different musk emanating from Kenny. It was warm, heavy, _welcoming_. He grasped him with curious fingers, taking a small note that Kenny was bigger than Stan if only by a teeny bit, but _damn_ did the idea of more to work with excite him. He eagerly let his head fall around the skin, looking up as he slowly bobbed his head, watching Kenny for reactions. He didn't need to look much as Kenny let out a long-winded moan and his calloused fingers came to wrap in Kyle's hair. He grinned around his cock, loving the feeling of Kenny pulling on him, silently begging for more. _Demanding_ it. He pressed himself down, swallowing around the thick skin and relishing in the subtle twitches from Kenny's thighs felt under his arms resting atop them.

"Fuck, Kyle," Kenny groaned. Kyle answered with a wanton moan around him, picking up his pace a bit. Kenny was losing his goddamn mind, Kyle's experienced throat taking him in so beautifully. Hell, it could've been the worst blowjob in the world and Kenny probably still would've been on top of a mountain. The mere _idea_ that it was Kyle actually sucking his cock and not just his imagination was beyond his wildest dreams. "Fuck, just like that," he pleaded as Kyle's cheeks hollowed further.

Kyle felt his own dick pressing angrily against his jeans and whimpered, reaching down and quickly undoing his button. He reached up and slicked his hand around Kenny's cock before returning to his own, stroking vigorously as he worked on the blonde. Ken's eyes drifted down and nearly blew his load right then and there at the sight of Kyle jerking himself off to his work. Kenny's fingers tightened in his hair and Kyle moaned loudly to urge him on, stomach jumping with glee as the blonde caught on, rocking his hips up into Kyle's throat.

The redhead was beside himself. This wasn't like with Stan, this was something _completely_ different. He wasn't tasting a fucking condom like the noirette always insisted on, instead he was getting the pure, staunch taste that he'd been craving for so long. He could taste dabbles of precum splashing onto his palate and couldn't help but give that its own noise of pleasure. Kenny was using him, he was urging him, he was _begging_ but demanding all the same. Stan was always so stoic about the whole thing, completely silent until he came. But the sounds Kenny was making was driving Kyle absolutely crazy, making him feel so goddamn wanted and so in control but fucked all the same.

Ken glanced down again through his labored breathing, laughing softly at Kyle's desperate attempts to keep his thrusts going. "This ain't yer first time you've jerked off to me, is it, Kyle?" he drawled saucily. Kyle shuddered at his words, knowing that he couldn't exactly deny it as Kenny's throat slapped against the back of his throat. His eyes were watering, his oxygen depleting rapidly, but he didn't care. He wanted this. He didn't know how badly he _needed_ this. "Aw _fuck_ ," Kenny gritted his teeth, his stomach swelling with pleasure way too soon for his liking. But holding off this long with Kyle was a goddamn victory regardless. "Shit, Ky, I'm gonna-" he tried pulling Kyle's head off but the redhead's free hand shoved him away, keeping his lips firmly planted around him. He wanted to taste him. He wanted to feel every bit of what he'd been missing for so damn long.

Kenny's whispers of his name flooded his ears before the blonde arched up further into his mouth, hips jerking erratically as he came into the waiting mouth. Kyle swallowed down around his cock, letting him ride it out with nothing but a few sparse whimpers. His entire mouth was soaked in the salty, not entirely unpleasant taste that he'd been waiting for. Kenny's hips finally sank back onto the bed, his body shaking. Kyle pushed himself down into his stomach, slowly pulling his lips tightly back up over, taking every bit of Kenny with him as he popped off of his cock. He swallowed down the mess, tonguing over some fluid dribbling off the side of his lip. He gave Kenny's head a tiny, final lick and a satisfied sigh before yelping as the blonde suddenly leapt up, shoving him onto his back and switching their positions, shooing Kyle's hands off of himself. He spat into his palm and grasped his dick, thrusting his tongue down into his mouth as he jerked him off rapidly.

Kyle's eyes fluttered, Kenny's practiced hand so rough and so defined that it was nearly too much. It didn't take long before he was panting into the blonde's mouth, brows furrowing. "Oh god," he whimpered into his lips.

"Gonna cum for me?" Kenny growled, biting his lip sharply.

That _voice_. That voice was penetrating him deeper than he'd ever felt before, feeling it pierce through his reserve so deeply that he almost felt violated. He loved it, he wanted more of it, but he knew that he wasn't going to get it, he was right on his own edge. That damning sultry tone echoed throughout his system, completely nerve-wracking him. "Ken...Ken... _shit_ ," he spat as his hips arched up and he orgasmed harder than he had in a _damn_ long time, black nearing the edges of his vision. His body trembled on its descent, his mouth agape and his head falling back. "Fuck," he breathed with a satisfied smile. He creaked open his eyes, finding Kenny staring at him with the widest, happiest grin he'd ever seen on that handsome face. "What?" he teased breathlessly.

"Holy. Shit," he chuckled, leaning his forehead down atop of Kyle's, their heavy breathing falling in time with one another. "That was...the best fucking orgasm...of my life."

Kyle laughed softly, running his hand up his face and through his hair, pecking his lips. "Same," he murmured.

Ken smirked cockily, "You just sayin' that or do ya mean it?"

"Well he never told me that, so I'd assume he means it."

They both shot their heads over at the door, finding a very infuriated looking Stan lingering in the doorway. Kenny and Kyle froze as Stan slowly stepped into Kyle's bedroom, shutting the door and locking it behind him, setting his sights on the petrified blonde.

Shit.


	17. To Congregate

The group of seven sat around Token's dining room table, their phones laid out in front of them and each looking at one another for answers. Bebe quirked her brow at the boys surrounding her, taking a deep breath. "Okay, so, how do we approach this?" she asked quietly.

Cartman scoffed, popping a chip into his mouth and rolling his eyes, "Shouldn't you know out of all of us, Miss Gossip?"

She scowled, "Fuck off, Cartman. I told you this isn't my usual shtick, but we need to help Kyle out somehow."

Craig looked at the surrounding group in boredom, "Why are we even making the effort to help Broflovski? He's a big boy, he can deal with it."

Token shrugged from beside Bebe, scratching through his hair. "Because Kyle's our friend?" he said. "It's not right what everyone's saying about him," he paused as his phone buzzed, picking it up and staring at it with a frown. "Well, looks like Kyle's been whoring himself out for years according to this from Red," he rolled his eyes.

They all looked at each other once again, the giant room overwhelming the lot of them with its eerie silence. There really wasn't an easy way to go about this. Clyde sighed, flicking a piece of paper over at Token's head. "I don't know what we _can_ do."

"Let the Jew wallow in misery until he kills himself?" Cartman piped up hopefully.

"Eric, come on now," Butters lectured, shaking his head. "He ain't done nothin' to ya."

He scoffed, "Only because he was too busy taking it up the ass from Jockstrap."

Bebe groaned, dragging her hands down her face in frustration. "Why are you even _here_ , Fatass?" she questioned. "I know you believe him but I _also_ know you don't ever want to help him."

The brunette shrugged, "Token has the best shit," he waved his bag of chips in the air. "Fucker can afford Lays while the rest of us suffer with off-brand cardboard."

Token rolled his eyes again, "Whatever. If you're going to be here and eat my food, then you're going to give _real_ suggestions, Tubsy."

Cartman crossed his arms in a huff, looking up at the giant chandelier dangling above their heads. "Why not just send out an en masse text from all of us saying it's bullshit?"

"Because who'd believe us?" Tweek questioned worriedly.

He shook his head, "No, no one would believe Butters, Craig, or you," he raised his brow. "Bitchtits over there is a cheerleader," he pointed at Bebe who scowled, her nostrils flaring. "Clyde and Token are in fuckin' football right with Marsh."

"Not the quarterback, though," Clyde pointed out. "Stan's always been more popular than the two of us."

"Until party time comes around," Cartman countered, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Then _Token_ gets all the glory."

They all looked over at Token who shrugged dismissively, "He's got a point. People tend to cling to me a few days afterwards."

"And they hang onto your every word like a fuckin' IV tube," Cartman huffed. "You fuckin' throw a party, tell them that Jewboy is an innocent little virgin or whatever, and they'll believe you because they want their free booze."

He nodded slowly, looking up at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. "It's four o'clock," he murmured. "Think we can get one going in about four hours?"

"No problem, Sweetie," Bebe nodded briskly, taking his hand and smiling at him. "You'd really do this on such short notice for Kyle?"

He grinned, leaning down and kissing her cheek. "Kyle's always been cool to me, and I know you care about him, it's not a problem."

"Aw isn't that sweet," Craig rolled his eyes, silently thanking the gods that Tweek wasn't a lovey-dovey pansy like Token became around his girlfriends. He looked at Cartman who was stuffing chips into his face again, watching Token and Bebe and shaking his head. "Fatass," he said, catching the brunette's attention. "You think people would believe _you_ over me, Tweek, or Stotch?" he asked dryly.

He shrugged, "If it's something positive about Kahl of all people, then yes, I do," he quirked his brow. They all paused. He had a hell of a point. Cartman didn't compliment Kyle. He'd sooner rip off his own balls and eat them before admitting the redhead's innocence.

"And...you'd be willing to defend him?" Clyde asked hesitantly, knowing well enough that Cartman never did anything for _anyone's_ benefit for free, especially not Kyle.

A sly grin sliced up his face, "Oh definitely."

"Eric! That's so nice of ya!" Butters beamed.

"Hold that thought, Stotch," Token held up his hand, watching the glutton suspiciously. "What are you going to do? Make Kyle be your slave again?" he rolled his eyes, all of them shuddering with the memory of their sophomore year. Watching Kyle lug around Cartman's books and tell everyone how much he admired the brunette for two weeks after losing a bet was a nightmare for everybody who had to pay witness to such a humiliation.

"Nothing _so_ dramatic," he fluttered his lashes naively. "It won't be anything much, but Kahl will be more than willing to comply should we get him back into a good light like the goody-goody he is."

The remainder looked at one another skeptically. "I'm not sure I'm comfortable with you being involved if you're going to take advantage of him," Bebe said slowly, tapping her nail on the table.

He waved his hand dismissively, "Don't worry your stupid curly head, Stevens. If you wanna save that stupid Jewrat from having more plates thrown at his head, you're just gonna have to trust me."

She sighed, shaking her head tiredly. Butters piqued back up, "I-I think we need t' listen t' Eric, fellas."

"He _is_ the master of manipulating people," Clyde rolled his eyes.

Cartman beamed a bit with a smirk. "That's right. Kahl coulda blown a fuckin' group of fifty guys in front of the whole fuckin' school and I could convince them it didn't happen."

"Gross," Token's nose crinkled.

Tweek grated over his lip, "But what do we do now? H-how are we supposed to get everyone here?! Jesus four hours isn't enough to plan a party! We don't have anything! Kyle's screwed! We're screwed!" he grated his teeth, wrapping his fingers through his hair and tugging.

Craig sighed, moving closer to him and slowly untangling his grip. "All we need to do is get some booze and send out texts. It's fine, Tweek. It's going to be just fine." The blonde looked into his grey eyes, sniffling and nodding briskly, trying to control his rapid heart rate.

Token grabbed his phone, sighing and scrolling through his contact list. "Okay, so my parents are gone tonight, thank fuck," he rolled his eyes. "But they'll be back tomorrow evening, so I'm going to need you guys to help me clean shit, okay?" he glared at them all and they nodded silently. He found his target and began typing rapidly, Bebe watching over his shoulder.

"Who're you texting, Hon?" she asked.

"The guy who supplies my parties," he chuckled, finishing his message and setting the phone back on the table, tapping his index finger and looking at the group. "Think we can pull it off?"

Clyde nodded, "Nothing gets people in the forgiving mood like free vodka, Dude. Besides, so long as we keep Stan out of it, the air should clear pretty-"

"No," Cartman interjected sharply and they all looked at him in shock. "Marsh has to be here, and so does the Jew."

"What?" Bebe blinked. "Kyle is not in any condition to be coming out into a crowd of people that hate him, Cartman!"

He rolled his eyes, "That's why we're _fixing_ the problem, Blondie. How do you think his reputation will be if he's not there while he's being defended?" he raised his brow.

"They'd think he's a pussy or think he's paying people off to defend him," Craig nodded. "He's right. Broflovski and Marsh both have to be there. Brof to appear innocent and Marsh to spill the truth."

She frowned, "How do you expect us to do that? I'm not talking to Wendy and poor Kyle's out there devastated."

Cartman snorted, "Jesus, Bebe, get his dick outta your vag."

"Watch it," Token growled, grabbing Bebe's hand possessively.

"Oh, Sweetie, calm down," Bebe patted him before turning a sharp glare onto the brunette. "And just _what_ do you mean by that?"

He watched her amusedly, "Bebe, you're talkin' like he's in a fuckin' coma or some shit. He's a stubborn-ass fucker and you all know that," he gestured to the lot of them. "Look, the little Jewish Princess is more angry than sad or whatever," he scoffed. "And I know him, when he gets _really_ angry, he drinks himself to sleep. I guarantee that he passed out on bitch beers or something last night," he rolled his eyes. "You think he'd pass up free booze? And we _all_ know Marsh is a closet alcoholic, and considering how much he drank at my place last night, I'm thinkin' he'd be apt to show up as well."

Tweek's fingers began tapping on the table nervously, "B-but how do we know they'll show up if the other is coming?!" he squeaked.

"We don't tell them the other is coming, you jittery retard," he frowned. "Bebe gets Kahl to come and Clyde convinces Marsh. It isn't hard."

Bebe and Clyde looked at each other and took deep breaths. "Guess he's right," Clyde murmured. "Stan'll listen to Jameson more than reasoning at this point."

She nodded, "I can only imagine that Kyle wants to escape from this bullshit. I'm sure if Kenny and I prod him to get out, he will."

They all jolted a bit as Token's phone buzzed again, watching him grab it and read over it. "Okay, he can set us up by 8:30," he relayed. "Everyone, send a text to everyone in your lists, send Stan and Kyle the message separately from the group."

"And Ken for good measure," Bebe added. "I'm sure he's with Kyle right now."

"Probably with his dick up Kahl's ass," Cartman said dryly, grabbing his phone and starting on his own message. He flinched as she reached across the table, grabbing his chips and throwing them beside her, glaring at the brunette.

"Cartman, none of that shit tonight, understand?" she said sharply. "He's going through enough and doesn't need your taunting."

"Sorry, Bebe, but I _have_ to be an asshole tonight," he said smoothly with a grin. "After all, if I'm _nice_ while bailing the Jew out, who'd believe me then? They'll think that he paid me to do this or something. I have to do this properly or else your little redheaded dreamboy is going to have more than sandwiches thrown at his face."

Token sneered, "Seriously, Fatass. Knock it the fuck off." The two pairs of deep brown eyes locked before Cartman chuckled, waving him off. The group sighed, shaking their heads and letting their fingers fly on their phones.

"Geez, I hope this works," Butters murmured, fingers fiddling with the Hello Kitty charm dangling off of his phone. "I hate it when Stan and Kyle fight."

"We all do," Clyde muttered, finishing his task with a sigh and tossing his phone down again. "Stan gets pissy and can't throw for shit and Kyle gets so angry that he argues with teachers when they're wrong and gets us all extra homework," he rolled his eyes. They all nodded solemnly in agreement as one by one, they finished their typing, looking at the others tiredly.

"We only have a few hours," Token said tiredly, getting onto his feet and stretching, holding out his hand to help Bebe up as well. "We need a group to get some food, the rest need to stay here and help me get shit ready."

"I'll take Cartman and Butters," Bebe sighed. "You know the two of them can't lift worth shit."

"But I can't either!" Tweek spasmed.

Craig shook his head, patting his shoulder lightly. "You can direct stuff, okay?...With our help," he added, not wanting him to crumble under the pressure as he had so many times in the past. Tweek curled his fingers around each other, gulping and nodding, letting Craig's hand calm his nerves.

Token reached into his wallet, handing Bebe his credit card. "You know what to get," he smiled softly.

She returned it, leaning up and kissing him briskly. "Thanks, Token," she said quietly. "This is really sweet of you to be doing for Kyle."

He shrugged sheepishly, "Well, Kyle and the booze," he winked. She chuckled and he pushed her lightly. "Get a move on. We don't have much time."

The three of them nodded, Cartman and Butters standing and heading towards the foyer behind Bebe, both of them glancing around at the immaculately decorated abode. "Gee, I wonder what it's like t' be this rich," Butters said in awe.

"According to Token, not as wonderful as you'd think," Bebe laughed quietly, heading out the front door with them in tow. They made their way down towards their cars and Bebe turned to look at Cartman. "Can we use yours? It's got the most space."

He rolled his eyes and waved dismissively, "Whatever. But we're stopping by the station and Token's paying for a tank."

She scoffed but nodded, not willing to put up the fight. She'd just pay Token back later, time was of the essence. She paused, her ears perking to her phone ringing. She slid her hand into her pocket, coming to a stop and the boys nearly crashing into her. Wendy's name was displayed prominently on her screen, a picture of the two of them lying beneath it as a cruel taunt. She looked at the boys who shrugged, Cartman looking bored out of his skull and Butters grating his lip worriedly. She scratched through her hair and closed her eyes for a moment, letting her thumb slide over to answer the call. "Hey," she said quietly.

A few moments of quiet passed before a meek _"Wow...I-I didn't expect you to answer."_

"Yeah well...it's been a long day," Bebe sighed. "For everyone."

" _Tell me about it_ ," she chuckled weakly. _"Bebe, can we talk? Please?_ "

Bebe let her teeth slide over her lip, rubbing her eyes tiredly as continued their walk down to Cartman's car. "Yeah. If we can keep it civil."

" _Definitely!_ " Wendy jumped, Bebe easily sensing a load of relief coming from the girl's voice. _"Please, I really_ _ **really**_ _feel bad and want to talk about what you said."_

She nodded to herself, sliding into the passenger seat of Cartman's Hummer and taking a deep breath. "Meet me at J-mart, I'm heading out to shop for Token's party."

" _Yeah, no problem, I'll be there in like, half an hour."_

"I'll see you there," Bebe said, hanging up and taking a deep, cleansing breath. The sound of the engine filled her ears and she let it drown out the anxiety trying to build within her. Wendy sounded so hopeful, and she was using that tone that she _only_ used when she felt awful about something. This wasn't just her trying to half-ass an apology only to bristle about it for months on end.

"You're gonna talk t' her?" Butters asked timidly.

She nodded, "Yeah. Besides, she'd be more likely to get Stan to the party than Clyde."

"Well yeah, Stan follows her vag around like a hound dog," Cartman scoffed, pulling off of Token's street and heading towards town.

"Tell me about it," she muttered, leaning back and closing her eyes. She was still angry. Hell, she was downright _furious_ with Wendy, but she knew it was moot. She needed to push down her own frustrations and help fix this mess. She'd never be able to live with herself otherwise...Her hazel eyes opened up dully to stare at the rearview mirror, her nails digging into her phone a bit. She had a chance to actually make something better in this shitty situation, and she'd be damned if she was going to pass it up.


	18. Sanctimonious Mutilation

No one moved a muscle, all three sets of eyes wide open and every throat hitched with an inescapable breath. Kenny was still overtop of Kyle, both of them very aware that their jeans were undone and Kyle's cum was currently cooling on his shirt between them.

Stan took a deep breath, his jaw trembling. Every nerve was on complete fire, a burning in his chest threatening to crumple him down onto the ground. But no. No, he had to control himself before he grabbed Kenny and threw him out the window...Soon to be followed by a little redhead. He clenched his fists, letting out air through his nostrils. "Maybe you should pull your pants up," he said through clenched teeth.

Kyle's shock quickly gave way to a damnable anger at hearing Stan's voice, shaking his head out of its stupor. "And why should we?" he spat. "It's _my_ room that you were not given permission to come into. So how about you turn the fuck around and run back to Wendy?!" he shouted.

"Ky, Ky, come on," Kenny urged, zipping up his pants and helping Kyle sit up. The redhead looked at him and sighed, redoing his own jeans and getting onto shaky feet. He grimaced, looking down at the cum drying on his shirt.

"You," he pointed at Stan. "I need to get changed so turn the fuck around."

He looked at him incredulously. "I'm sorry?" he narrowed his eyes. "I think I've seen more than just your fucking stomach, Broflovski."

He returned the expression, "Not anymore you won't, _Marsh_ ," he mocked. " _I_ get to choose who sees me undressed and _you_ are no longer on that list."

"Oh. No. My poor fragile heart," he rolled his eyes. "I guess _Kenny_ took my place, then?"

He looked at him primly, "Maybe he did."

"Oh god," Kenny muttered to himself, slowly moving himself back and grabbing his flask off the nightstand, taking a long swig and hoping to God that it wouldn't be his last. Looking at Stan's face, however, he wasn't overly hopeful. He had no idea he could go from the happiest moment of his life to practically pissing his pants in fright, but by God, there it was.

"Turn, you fucker!" Kyle demanded. Stan rolled his eyes again and did so, crossing his arms and shaking his head as he stared at the door. This was goddamn ridiculous. Kyle shared a look with Kenny, putting a gentle hand on his arm and mouthing a desperate 'I'm sorry'. Kenny gave him as reassuring a smile as he could possibly muster, watching as Kyle tore off his shirt and threw it into his hamper, walking to his closet and grabbing a button-up shirt. He purposefully took his time doing it up, blinking rapidly. He didn't know what to do here. What the hell could Stan possibly want? To rub his happiness in his face? To brag at how quickly he got over him?

He took a deep breath, looking at Kenny again who looked scared for his life. Kyle couldn't exactly blame him, he wasn't feeling much different. He gulped. "Okay," he said softly. Stan turned back around, staring at the small redhead and taking an angry breath. Kyle bit his lip, "What the fuck do you want, Stan?"

"Well I _wanted_ to talk but I guess it'd be hard with Ken's dick in your mouth, wouldn't it?" he spat.

Kyle's face burst into color and he snarled. "What I do is my fucking business, Stan. You don't fucking own me!"

"I just find it fucking funny how our friends all think that you're too 'good' of a person to fuck around so soon after we break up and yet...here I find you with Ken and your dicks hanging out!" He waved his arms above his head exasperatedly. Kenny suddenly regretted taking off his sweatshirt earlier and tossing it on Kyle's desk next to Stan, wanting nothing more than to hide in his hood for all eternity.

Kyle blinked, his eyes locking in on Stan dangerously. "Funny. I thought the same thing about you," he said lowly. "I _never_ thought you'd run back between Wendy's fucking legs so soon, so I guess both of us were proven wrong, weren't we?"

"Hey, _you're_ the one who wanted to break up."

"No, _**you**_ were!" he shot back, moving to take a step before Kenny's hands on his shoulders stopped him. He took a deep breath, letting himself fall back beside the blonde as Stan watched in disbelief.

The noirette bit his cheek, wincing as his tooth sliced through a sliver of flesh. "So. How many times did we sleep together and you were thinkin' of him, hm?"

"Sleep together? Fucking adorable," he seethed. "More like you bent me over and just did whatever you wanted without giving a fuck about what _I_ wanted! How many times did you fuck me and think of Wendy?" he challenged.

Kenny gulped, knowing the intense risk he faced with what he was going to do. "Guys," he said softly. He flinched as they both shot their heads at him, their anger at each other redirecting onto him. "Guys, ya need t' _talk_ ," he emphasized. "This shit ain't gonna get ya nowhere n' ya both know it."

Kyle's shoulders dropped a bit, looking at the floor guiltily. Stan, however, couldn't tense more if he tried. His deep blue eyes were ablaze with fury. His suspicions had been right the whole fucking time. Everyone kept saying _he_ was the bad guy, but here Kyle was just as guilty. But no. Kyle was the 'victim' to their friends. And all because Kenny fucking McCormick couldn't keep his mouth shut and stay out of their business. Every talk with Wendy was shoved down, nothing circulating his mind but a fiery anger to rival that of Kyle's. "Stay out of this, McCormick," he hissed. "You're part of the fucking problem."

"No, he's not, Stan," Kyle frowned. "The problem is your ridiculous amount of jealousy over absolutely _nothing_."

"Oh? Nothing?" he huffed out a sarcastic laugh. "Funny. I would think that you being so willing to suck him off would be something to worry about, Kyle."

He straightened up, his humiliated flush being toned down by the pure rage burning in his eyes. "You didn't _know_ how I felt about Ken so don't even _try_ that bullshit. If we were still together, I never would have _touched_ him and you fucking know that, regardless of my own feelings. I _always_ put you first, you fucker! You're pulling your classic move of misdirection, trying to turn every one of your insecurities and either ignore it or shove it onto me!" He accused, pointing at him with a shaking arm. "Well guess what, Marsh? I'm not dealing with it anymore, I don't fucking have to."

Stan looked at the floor, shaking his head. "Kyle. You're a fucking hypocrite for doing this," he said lowly.

"Last time I checked, we're not a couple. You have no say with what I do with my body, especially when _you_ fucked around with Wendy first!" he shouted. Kenny sighed to himself, taking another long drink and watching the two of them carefully. It hadn't gotten violent, which was already better than he'd been expecting. It was _something_ at least. "Why are you even fucking here?" Kyle demanded. "Are you wanting to show me just how happy you are without me? Tell me how Wendy's better in your eyes than I could ever hope to be?!"

"Maybe she is," he bit furiously, losing his temper, seeing nothing but red around the small Jew. "Maybe I got with you because I needed a downgrade for awhile, or maybe just to be a nice guy and help boost your own shitty self-esteem!" The room fell silent, his words echoing in the small space around them. Stan blinked, realizing just what it was he'd said and instantly regretting his words as Kyle's face fell from fury to devastation.

"Dude," Kenny said, looking at him in disgust. "What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?!"

"I-I..." he stammered, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. "Shit. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that, holy shit. Kyle, I'm sorry."

Kyle looked down at the floor, his hands rubbing his arms self-consciously. "For someone trying to 'boost my shitty self-esteem'...all you ever did was make it worse," he said quietly.

Stan's tenseness dropped defeatedly, biting his lip. He looked to see that Kenny had apparently inherited his rage, the blonde's teeth grinding and his eyes screaming that he was more than ready to kill Stan for what he said. He couldn't exactly blame him. "Kyle...I didn't mean it," he repeated softly. "You know I don't think you're like that. You _know_ how much I care about you, Dude. I'm just angry."

" _You_ have no reason to be angry," he said, his fingers digging into his arms brutally. " _I_ have the reason to be angry. Yes, I fucking did something with Ken, but I'm not going to apologize for something I did _after_ we broke up, especially when _you're_ the one who made the call, Stanley!" he suddenly shot, his voice jumping enough decibels to make the both of them flinch. "In the last 24 hours, you know what I've been through?! I fucking lost you, everyone thinks I'm a goddamn whore, and I saw you and Wendy...holding hands a-and looking so happy," he said miserably. "What is it about her that's so much better than me, Stan?!"

"She's not," he whispered, seeing tears welling in Kyle's eyes and taking a shuddery breath. "Kyle, she's _not_ better than you."

"Then why did you run to her?" he demanded.

"Why did _you_ run to Kenny?" he countered, his shields desperately trying to go up. He didn't want to be cornered, he couldn't fight out of Kyle's words when he faltered and he damn well knew it. It'd been a staple of their relationship for years: Stan was the physical confronter, but Kyle could destroy you with one sentence should you let him. And Stan didn't think he could take on both Kyle and Kenny, not when they were this angry.

Kyle sighed irritably, "I 'ran' to Ken because he actually gives a shit about me. And, unlike _Wendy_ , he doesn't let me down for his own selfish gains. You know how many years I listened to you bitching about her, Stan? How many times I fucking pulled you together when she broke your heart time after fucking time?" he asked desperately. "How is that better than me?"

Stan stood in silence, his jaw trembling. He knew why. He knew _exactly_ why. He took a deep breath, feeling the uncomfortable, smothering truth settling in around him. But Kyle had to know. He _deserved_ to know. "Because I love her."

"And you don't love me?" he scoffed with an eyeroll.

He looked into those green eyes as they settled back on him and shook his head subtly, voice no louder than a whisper as he choked out, "Not like that. No."

The words may as well have been physical objects being cannoned at his face. He didn't expect that. He _never_ expected Stan to ever say that to him. Kyle's entire world shattered around him, his legs trying to give way underneath him. Everything seemed to shrink, his heart nearly stopping in its tracks. He couldn't think. He couldn't fucking _breathe_.

Kenny's mouth was hanging open, his mind overrun with hate, his fear of Stan dissipating within an instant. "You fucking _dick_ ," the boy seethed at him, stepping closer towards him and shaking in rage. "Marsh, ya don't fuckin' tell someone that, you piece of shit!"

"Well, what?! Was I supposed to lie?!"

"YES!" he shouted. He looked back to see Kyle looking completely crushed, his heart feeling torn to pieces as he watched the poor redhead trying so hard to hold himself together. "Oh, Jesus, Ky," he said worriedly, stepping back to him and putting a hand on his shoulder, freezing at the complete solidarity of his muscle.

"You...didn't...love me?" Kyle whispered, the words tasting like turpentine as they left his tongue.

Stan bit his lip, shifting uncomfortably. "Ky, you're my best friend. And I love you _like_ my best friend. But...I mistook it for...relationship love," he winced.

Kyle's mouth was agape, his jaw quivering like a leaf caught in the wind. He felt like a fool. A love-blinded _fool_. He should've known. He should've known right off that Stan didn't love him back. He shouldn't have listened to the words sounding so sweet coming from that mouth. He shouldn't have let himself fall into his soft kisses, let himself swoon before the boy who'd stolen his heart. He never should have given him this opportunity. Kyle knew he was too smart for that, he knew that he should've caught the signs right off the bat. Stan never treated him like Kenny treated him, never made him feel like the center of his universe. But Wendy...Wendy had _always_ been Stan's universe, regardless of who was in his bed at the time.

He should've known.

"Would've been nice to know before I wasted so much time on you," Kyle said miserably. "Would've been nice...to know that you were playing me the whole fucking time." He looked back up at him, feeling tears springing from his eyes but refusing to acknowledge them. "And it would've been **real** fucking nice to know that no matter what I did, you'd always want _her_. It's always fucking been her, hasn't it, Stan?" he demanded, trying to stop himself from sobbing, nearly choking on his repressed air.

"Kyle, I'm sorry," he insisted, his voice cracking. "Goddammit, I just want us to be friends again. I just want to go back in time a-and stop us before we did this."

"Same here," he bit. "I could've been with someone who gives a shit about me instead of dealing with you," he gestured over to Kenny, who sighed to himself. The blonde reached up and rubbed Kyle's shoulders a bit, trying to alleviate some of the tension, but knowing that he wasn't doing a damn thing. Kyle wiped his eyes with his sleeve and shook his head. "I've never... _hated_ myself more," he said angrily. "I had no _reason_ to love you, all you did was treat me like shit."

Stan's eyes fell and he ran his fingers through his hair. "I know I did."

Kyle looked back up at him and blinked in a bit of shock. "What?"

"I said I know I did," he murmured, shrugging listlessly. "I was treating you like my friend, nothing more...Because, as hard as I tried, I couldn't see you as more than my friend."

"And a piece of easy ass," he narrowed his eyes accusingly.

He was silent before sighing quietly. "Kyle, I'm sorry," he repeated.

Kyle stared at him in disbelief, clasping around himself. He couldn't even deny it. Stan wanted him to be nothing more than that whore that he'd perpetuated through his lie. He didn't want Kyle for anything but a shoulder to lean on, a co-op player, and an easy lay. Kyle couldn't take it. He was losing himself to Stan again, and in just as vulnerable a way. This time, he couldn't let him see. He looked down at the floor, trembling out of control. "Leave," he whispered. "Just get the _fuck_ out of my house, Stan."

"Kyle-" he started before flinching as Kenny stormed up to him and snagged his collar.

"Come on, Marsh," he spat. "You n' I are gonna talk n' yer gettin' away from him," he snarled, grabbing his shoulder and whirling him around. He unlocked the door and threw it open, shoving Stan out. They both looked to see Ike leaning outside the frame, glaring daggers at Stan.

"You piece of shit," he said lowly, shaking his head.

"Ike, help Kyle," Kenny directed. The boy nodded, sneering at Stan again and heading quickly into Kyle's room. Kenny resumed shoving Stan through the hall and leading him down the stairs by the back of his neck. Stan winced, knowing he could easily turn and punch the blonde and it'd be over in a moment flat, but he knew he deserved this. He fucked up. He _really_ fucked up.

Ken led him past Sheila who raised her brow. "Stanley? Aren't you apologizing to Kyle?" she asked.

He looked away guiltily and Kenny growled. "No, he's not. He's gettin' outta yer house before he says somethin' _else_ to encourage yer son to jump outta window, Mrs. B," he answered, walking him to the front door and shoving him outside. Stan stumbled off the step, barely catching himself and watching Kenny carefully, wondering if he was about to brawl with the blonde. His mind ran over ways to take him down, his adrenaline pumping. However, it seemed all for naught as Kenny stepped out behind him and slammed the door shut, crossing his arms and glaring at the noirette from the stoop. He was keeping them at a distance, Stan noticed. No doubt because he _knew_ he was on the verge of losing any semblance of control he had left. "What the _fuck_ is wrong with you, Stan?" he finally demanded.

Stan looked at him defeatedly. "Ken, he needed to know the truth."

"Not like that," he hissed. "Fuck, Marsh...you might as well've just tied him down and bashed his head in with a rock with Wendy's face painted on it!" he waved his arms around frantically. "He felt bad enough!"

He frowned, "Not so bad he couldn't fuck around with you."

Kenny glared, "Yeah. So we messed around. Okay. So the fuck _what_? He needed an escape from the shit you've been puttin' him through." Stan shoved his hands into his pockets and rolled his eyes. The blonde stared at him and took a deep breath. "Stan. Did ya notice the bruise on his eye?"

"Yeah, I figured you got a little too rowdy," he scoffed.

"Millie threw a plate at him," he snapped bitterly. Stan cocked his head and he growled. "Because you started the bullshit that he was easy and now it's fucking everywhere, she thought Kyle went after fuckin' Bridon. You didn't just break up with him, Marsh. You ruined his reputation, you fucking told him he was a _downgrade_ ," he hissed, watching as the boy flinched guiltily. "And then...you fuckin' tell him ya never loved him?" he asked incredulously. "Whether or not ya love him like that, if he's yer best friend, why the fuck are you treatin' him like fuckin' Cartman treats him?!"

He recoiled a bit, blinking in shock. "Dude, that's not a fair comparison."

"Really?" he cocked his head. "'Cause as far as I can tell, ya started a lie about him, ya turned people against him, and _then_ ya went for the lowest blows that ya could. Seems pretty much like Fatass' typical Tuesday."

"I didn't _mean_ to hurt him!" he insisted. "I didn't know people would hang onto a little lie like that! I didn't fuckin' know that I didn't love him the way he loves me!" he bit his lip, tears welling in his eyes. "Dammit, Kenny, I said that stuff because I was angry. I wanted to talk to you both, I wanted us to be friends again...but then I walk in and you're jerking him off and he's calling your fucking name and...and...I just lost my control," his shoulders dropped and he groaned, scratching through his hair agitatedly.

"Yer jealous," Kenny said lowly. "You don't want Kyle, but ya don't want anyone else t' have him either. Why? Don't think he can be happy without ya?" he glared.

"I want him to be happy," he said quietly, staring at the sidewalk tiredly. "He _deserves_ to be happy."

Kenny watched him carefully and frowned. "Then why are ya so mad at him right now?"

"Because I don't want him to be happy with _you_ ," he spat. Kenny recoiled, blinking at him rapidly. That was unexpected. Stan noticed his confusion and growled to himself. "You aren't good enough for him, McCormick and you damn well know it!"

He recovered and sneered, "Oh? But _you_ are?"

"He seemed to think so!"

"Well, funny, he seems to think I'm pretty good, too. Considering how _before_ ya broke up, he said there were a lot of times he regretted not picking _me_ because of the shitty way you were treatin' him," he hissed, leaning down towards Stan's face from the stoop, watching the nausea rising up into his face. "You treated him like an accessory, Marsh. _I_ treat him like the whole goddamn outfit. So you can fuck off with yer 'holier than thou art' bullshit."

Stan stared at him in silence for a few minutes, nothing but the sharp wind cutting through their ears. He had a point. And after what he'd said to Kyle, watching Kenny ready to skin him alive was exactly what Stan would've done were the tables turned. His mind flashed back to Wendy, how they talked about Kenny and Kyle working together. How _he_ was the one that admitted it. He was angry. God he was _so_ angry, but he realized all at once: It wasn't at Kyle. And it wasn't at Kenny either. His body slumped exhaustively. "You _are_ good enough for him," he admitted in a whisper. "And I don't like that."

Kenny narrowed his eyes. "Why? Ya hate me?"

He shook his head. "No, I love Kyle. Just...not the way that you do," he shrugged. "I tried. He means the _world_ to me, Kenny...I-I just couldn't see myself going further than we were. I thought...that I'd get there one day. I thought it'd just happen. He's the most important person in my life, I thought it'd just come naturally," he said, his voice cracking with a torrent of emotion. Kenny's shoulders slunk a bit and they both looked down at the concrete beneath their feet. "I'm sorry," Stan said, getting his attention once more. "I don't hate you, Ken. I really don't."

"Sorry, but I can't return that sentiment," Kenny replied stoically. "What ya told Ky is...It wasn't okay."

"I know," he whispered, clenching his eyes shut.

Kenny watched him for a moment, looking back at the Broflovski homestead and sighing. "I'm gonna check on him, 'n yer gonna leave. You stay the fuck away from him, or I _will_ kick yer ass," he warned, turning on his heel and letting himself back into the house. Once more, Stan stood alone outside, his heart aching and his temples throbbing in guilt as he looked at the familiar chipped paint on the door. His phone buzzed and he took it out of his pocket, miserably reading an invite to a party at Token's house. He shook his head, clutching the device tightly in his palm before scrolling through his contacts, staring at the name at the top of his list. He knew that this was how he would always be, how whenever things went wrong, he'd turn back to _her_ for a guiding light. As it'd happened so often throughout their lives it was practically second nature, one would think he'd be more used to the outcome: Kyle was right.

But damn it all if it didn't want to eat Stan from the inside-out. But for now, it was just their reality, and now they _both_ had to live with it.


	19. Do Unto Others

Walking through the J-Mart parking lot, Wendy held her hands out to her sides to keep her balance on little patches of ice strewn about. She sighed, blowing a long strand of dark hair out of her eyes. Her heart was pounding excitedly, knowing she _finally_ had the chance to tell Bebe exactly what was going on, to apologize to her. She wasn't stupid. She was stubborn and always would be, but Stan wasn't the only person who could break through that part of her. Bebe had been her best friend for as long as Stan and Kyle had been together. She couldn't _imagine_ her life without the bubbly blonde, figuring to herself that was the most likely reason she wanted to see the boys make amends. She knew how much it hurt to think you'd lost your bestie. Even if the circumstances were quite different from one another, the pain was always guaranteed to be immense.

She finally made her way up to the sliding door, brushing a few sparse snowflakes off her purple beret and looking around the store. Bebe said she was getting food for a party, so her eyes mindlessly drifted until hitting the sign for the snack aisle. She bit her lip and briskly jogged over, her mind wondering just what it was they were going to do. Were they going to run to each other and hug it out as they had so many times before? Or was this going to be another instance where they didn't feel better until they screamed their lungs out and each walked away with good-sized scratches from the opposing girl's acrylics?

She slowed her jog as she heard the distinct voice of Bebe dryly coming from the chip aisle. She peeked her head around, seeing her standing there lecturing Cartman on caloric intake and shaking her head. The blonde _knew_ it was a worthless cause, but she always claimed she just didn't want Cartman to have a heart attack in the middle of class and she'd have to feign sympathy, so she always pointed out his health potentials. Butters was standing next to Cartman, nodding, seeming to take every single drip of syllable from Bebe to heart as he read over nutrition info on the back of a wrapper.

"Oh my _god_ , Stevens, shut up!" Cartman finally broke, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger tiredly. "Just because you like scrawny little bitches like Kahl it doesn't mean _all_ guys have to fit your preferences, you stuck up bitch."

Bebe pouted, crossing her arms and jutting her hip slightly. "Kyle is not 'scrawny'. He just knows how to eat right, he's _lean_."

"He's a diabetic piece of shit is what he is," he scoffed. "If you bring fucking veggie trays to a party your ass will be thrown so fast outside you'll think you fuckin' teleported."

Bebe opened her mouth before shutting it slowly. Okay, so he was right. Still though. She just needed a distraction, her mind overrun with worry at this point. So much going on between the boys and Wendy...She sighed. She turned back to the chips and waved Cartman down the way. "You know what tastes better, Fatboy," she muttered, her eyes lingering on different colors, words not making sense. Cartman and Butters looked at each other and shrugged before splitting off to grab different packages while Bebe stood still, tapping her nail on her arm.

Wendy took a deep breath, knowing that the blonde was in a state of zen that she forced herself into whenever she was stressed. And God knew the past few days had been _nothing_ but stress. She stepped out from around the aisle, clearing her throat lightly. Bebe shot her head around, hazel eyes brimming with worry and a flash of anger all at once. "The veggie chips are decent and they're healthy," Wendy said shyly, pointing to a bag beside of her.

Bebe smirked just a teeny bit, "Don't lie, Testaburger. They taste like ass and you know it."

She smiled back and shrugged lightly. "Okay, they're not great, but what do you expect? It's dried fuckin' kale." They both snorted, simultaneously remembering with a shudder their two month experimentation with a full kale diet when it'd become the new fad three years beforehand. The both of them never wanted to touch the stuff again for as long as they lived.

Bebe sighed, looking to see the boys staring at them intriguingly. "You guys keep shopping," she directed. "I'll be back." She turned to Wendy and jerked her head. "C'mon, we don't need Fatass butting in at every turn."

"Ay!" he shouted. Bebe and Wendy chuckled, the blonde taking the lead out of the aisle and back towards the front of the store, out the doors and into the brisk air in silence. They both shivered for a moment, wrapping their coats around themselves and looking at one another expectantly.

"So..." Wendy said awkwardly.

"So," Bebe repeated.

"Do...do you wanna start?" she winced.

Bebe took a deep breath, curling her finger and walking to the side of the building with Wendy in tow. They both took a seat on a small brick wall housing a little garden, dead from the cold and nothing but a tub of dirt. Bebe twisted a loose curl from her bun around her finger and bit her lip. "Wendy...you know what you did was wrong, right?"

She nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah I do. But Bebe, you _know_ I wasn't doing it to hurt Kyle. I love Kyle...I just love Stan more."

"I know," she sighed, dropping her hand and tapping her nail on the brick beneath them. "I just don't understand _why_ you love him. C'mon, Wendy, he can be a real douche," she said dryly.

She smirked and nodded again. "Trust me, I know. But...I guess that's why I love him. He can be a complete dick but somehow...he just looks at me and I forgive him," she said dreamily. "I love him despite his flaws...I know he's not perfect. I _know_ he can be a giant fuck-up...but at the end of the day, he still cares. I guess it kind of just keeps drawing me in."

Bebe smiled a bit, putting her chin into her palm and staring out at the parking lot. "Well, it must be nice to feel like that," she said blankly. "I never keep a guy around long enough to know if I feel for them or not."

Wendy's face fell drastically and she bit her lip. "Bebe, I am _so_ sorry for what I said to you about that," she said earnestly. "I was angry and just-"

"I know," she interrupted, waving her off. She looked at Wendy and shrugged a little. "I know you didn't mean it. But you were right."

"No I-"

Bebe stopped her, holding up her hand. "No, you were," she repeated. "I guess that's why I'm so sick of hearing drama about you and Stan...I pick myself up and move on from guys so quickly because they never last. But you and Stan...Jesus that's like, ten years in the making."

She nodded, "Tell me about it. I already feel like we've been married and divorced about six times."

Bebe laughed, though Wendy could tell something about it was killing her. "It was really bitchy of me to call you a rebound. I know you're not and I know you'd never reduce yourself to that, you're too much of a stubborn bitch," she smirked, getting a small hit on the arm from Wendy in return, though the smile creeping up her pink lips was filled with relief. "I'm sorry I didn't think that through when you called," Bebe continued. "Just...Kyle is one of the few guys I trust," she winced. "I know we broke up, but that wasn't either of our faults. And he's _always_ been someone who'll listen when I have a problem, you know? And he gets hurt so rarely..." she trailed off, feeling Wendy's slim hand wrapping around her shoulder.

"You felt the need to defend him," she finished. "I get it. I'm the same way with Stan...Bebe, we can't let these two get in the way of us being friends," she said in a pleading tone that she tried desperately to hide, though she knew full and well Bebe could hear it clear as day.

She looked into her grey eyes curiously, "Are you saying we shouldn't get involved with this?"

She shook her head, "It's _way_ too late for that, besides, I-" she stopped as a small ding erupted from her purse. She sighed, holding up a finger and fishing her phone out, her eyes landing on a message from Stan and her mouth dropping.

"Wendy?" Bebe blinked.

The noirette looked at her, shock whirling in her eyes. "Stan caught Kenny and Kyle messing around."

Her jaw dropped as well, the two of them staring at each other in silence. There were _so_ many ways this could go down. Wendy could easily scream that Bebe was a hypocrite for judging her. Bebe could yell that it was Wendy and Stan's fault that Kyle got pushed to that point. It all came down to whoever was brave enough to speak first.

Bebe grated her lip and sighed, "Goddammit," she shook her head. "I...I'm sorry," she finally admitted, not willing to try to make yet another problem bloom from this disaster. "You were right. Stan and Kyle were broken up, there was no reason to act like you were a goddamn mistress."

Wendy frowned a bit, stroking her thumb over the screen of her phone. "Are...are you saying that because...you _mean_ it or because you don't want Kyle to be the bad guy?"

"No one's the bad guy," she said tiredly. "I guess just dealing with your Stan drama kinda added to my shock and...well you know me when I get angry, I tend to lash out at you," she shrugged sheepishly.

Wendy smiled and nodded, "Well, you know you're in just as much danger when I'm pissy, Stevens." They smiled at each other sadly before her phone began ringing. She looked at Bebe who shrugged. She couldn't exactly stop her. She cleared her throat, answering it on speaker phone, subtly letting Bebe know that she wanted her back in her loop. Bebe couldn't help but feel a large wave of relief flooding into her chest from the action. "Hey, Stan," she said.

" _...Wendy?"_ he said weakly, sounding like he was in tears. The girls looked at each other and blinked.

"Stan, what happened?"

" _Wends, I fucked up. I fucked up so bad a-and..."_ he trailed off, taking a long and shuddery breath. _"Wendy, I told Kyle the truth._ "

Bebe raised her brow and Wendy's heart sunk with worry. Oh no. "What truth? Stan what did you tell him?"

A lengthy bout of dead air filled the space before he meekly replied, _"I told him I didn't love him._ "

The girls' jaws dropped, Bebe's hand slapping over her mouth in horror. Wendy was shaking, filled with guilt, rage, sadness, just _everything_ that she could possibly feel in that moment. "Stan...Stan why would you do that?!" she cried out.

" _Because I thought it'd make it easier for him!"_ he insisted. _"I-I thought...he'd just say 'fine, fuck you' or at least appreciate the honesty for once! But I said some really awful stuff to him because I lost control seeing him and Ken together and I just...I don't know what to do."_

"Jesus _Christ_!" Bebe exclaimed, raking her fingers through her hair.

" _...Bebe?"_ Stan asked. _"Hey, you two are talking again? That's good,_ " he said weakly, obviously embarrassed that this was not a private conversation as he believed it would be.

"Stan, forget about that," Wendy shot him down. "You chose the wrong thing to be honest about!"

" _I know, I know_ ," he said miserably, the both of them practically hearing him pinching the bridge of his nose. _"I don't know how to fix it."_

Bebe took a breath, her mind filled with anxiety and worry. "We'll think of something," she said softly, trying to repress the rage growing inside of her once more. Her and Wendy shared a concerned look, neither of them knowing quite how to approach it all.

"Stan...I'll call you back. Bebe and I will think of something, just hang on," Wendy said, hanging up the phone and slamming it onto her thigh. "I never thought he'd do that," she said honestly, looking up at Bebe and nearly drowning in an aura of guilt for being the one to put the thought in Stan's mind. "I never _ever_ thought he'd be so fucking stupid."

"And I never thought Kyle would go for Kenny so soon like that," she said blankly. She laughed humorlessly, shaking her head. "Man, we like to pick the stupid ones, don't we?" Wendy chuckled, nodding along. They both heaved a deep sigh, their own issues with each other vanishing as they took their usual thinking positions, leaning their shoulders and heads against one another. They both found comfort in it, knowing that the other was now looking from the other side in, seeing something was awry with _both_ sides of the team.

"What do we do?" Wendy asked finally. "Those two are so...so fucking stubborn."

Bebe snorted, "Yeah, they're worse than us."

"They need to _be_ us," Wendy insisted, sitting back up and watching Bebe follow suit, staring at her confusedly. "Bebe, this was a typical fight for us," she gestured between the both of them. "We screamed, got it out of our systems, mulled, and then talked like civil people about it only a few hours later," she frowned. "Why can't Stan and Kyle do that?"

Bebe shrugged, "Because boys are stupid?"

She smirked, "Aside from that. What do we know about Stan and Kyle? What do they have in common?"

She looked up thoughtfully. "They're both smartassed stubborn jackasses who like to have their way?"

Wendy grinned, "Well, yes. But we also know this: When they fight, they go at it like wild dogs. They both absolutely _refuse_ to lose."

"Right," she agreed. "I remember when I was dating Kyle and you and Stan were back together and they fought over what fucking video game to buy," she rolled her eyes. "Argued for hours, made a pros and cons list, had a fucking _fist fight_ ," she put her fingers on her temple and shook her head slowly. "What do we do? The two of them would probably _kill_ each other if they get into a physical confrontation."

Wendy took a deep breath and nodded, "You're right. And no offense, but pretty sure Kyle would lose that one. He stabs you with words."

"And he's damn good at it...though Stan seems to be surpassing the master," she muttered. Wendy sighed in agreement, rubbing her arms a bit. "We have to get them to sit and talk it out," Bebe continued softly. "We need to have mediators, and we need them to come clean about _everything_ , because they're giving each other snippets of the story and neither of them is seeing the other's point of view in its entirety."

Wendy raised a thin brow, "And how do you suggest we go about that? Getting the two of them in a room together would take an act of God or some shit."

She smirked and elbowed her a bit, licking over her glossed lips as her sharp mind began to whir. "No, we just take a page from their books...We lie."


	20. Guidance

Sitting in the Broflovski's living room, Kenny could feel the unbearable tension weighing down on all occupants. Kyle sat between himself and Ike on the couch, Sheila and Gerald watching their eldest son from the side with eyes that looked as lost as Kenny felt. Kyle's eyes hadn't faltered from the wall in nearly an hour, his entire being seeming bereft of anything that made the redhead who he was. His posture was slouched, the bright green of his eyes seemed unnatural surrounded by such a decimated expression.

"Bubbeleh," Sheila started carefully after a good ten minutes mulling over what Kyle had told them. And he'd told them _everything_ right up to blowing Kenny. The blonde was more than thankful Kyle had left it at them kissing, not sure if he could handle Kyle's parents glaring at him in the midst of all this madness. "Honey, it's going to be okay," she said softly.

"I know," he said weakly. "It just..."

"Sucks," Ike finished. Kyle shut his eyes and nodded, his mind replaying Stan's words over and over. He never loved him. He just couldn't believe it. He never thought he'd be in this situation. He'd always figured if he and Stan broke up, it'd happen mutually at a calm level. One where, yes, it'd be awkward for a good while, but they'd jump back into their routine before long. He never thought that Stan of all people would be so apt to smash his ego into such tiny pieces, make him forget how strong he was and fall into such a fragile state.

Gerald sighed, tapping his finger thoughtfully on the arm of his lazy chair. "Is there anything we can do, Kyle?"

"I don't know," he whispered honestly.

Kenny hesitated for a moment before reaching over and grasping Kyle's slender hand in his own. He bit his lip as Kyle's palm slowly turned to meet his own, linking their fingers together delicately. "We're here for ya, Ky," he said softly, squeezing his hand.

"Thanks," he sniffed, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. He looked at his parents with a forlorn expression. "What do I do?" he asked meekly.

Sheila wrung her hands together. This was the first time Kyle had been open about his relationship with Stan, and was the first one that he'd been in that required any kind of help. She'd been desperate to get into the knowledge of what her son had been doing, but now a part of her yearned to have skipped this altogether, just get Kyle back to a place where he was happy again. That part of her that was so easily thrown into a rampage to protect her children was being shoved down, knowing well enough that throwing more emotion onto the table might break Kyle in half at the rate he was faltering. "Sweetie...there's not much you can do," she said kindly. "You have to stick it out. It _will_ get better, I promise. It's just going to take time."

His shoulders slunk further and he let out a long, shuddery breath. He figured that would be her answer, but a buried part of him had reverted back to when he was an emotionally-driven child, thinking his parents could solve every problem in the world. He longed for that to be his life once again. Gerald cleared his throat lightly and gave him a small smirk, "Stealing mine and your mother's alcohol is no way to start, Kyle." The boy's face burst into a blush, his eyes darting between them in fear before Gerald held up his hand. "Kyle, we're not stupid. You had your reasons. Don't think we never did the same thing when we were kids. Just...be careful about it," he winced. "You're seventeen and you're hurting. You're going to find stuff, just please don't make a habit of it. Or, at least, be safe about it." Kenny couldn't help but cringe, hoping to God that they couldn't see the outline of his flask in his pocket at that moment.

Kyle nodded slowly. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm just...lost," he admitted. "I-I never...expected this."

"None of us did, Ky," Ike said sympathetically, patting his knee. "Fuck, I never thought Stan would sink so low. I'm dropping out of hockey like a goddamn rock."

Kyle smiled as much as he could manage, knowing that Ike would bash 'Coach Marsh's' head in with his stick the moment he got the chance. "Don't," he said softly. "You love hockey. Stan has nothing to do with that and I know he won't hold me against you...just make sure to slam a puck into his shin now and again for me," he joked.

Ike smirked and nodded, "Will do."

Kenny squeezed his hand again, "Ya sure there ain't nothin' we can do?"

"Not unless you have a time machine," he shrugged, running his free hand though his hair, grimacing when he realized he hadn't brushed it since his and Kenny's little 'experiment'.

"I wish I did," he said softly, their eyes locking into one another's and such a longing look breaking through the two of them it was almost winding.

Ike snorted, catching their expressions, "Or you two can make out again. Take Stan off your mind that way."

Kyle cringed, blushing madly and looking at the floor in guilt. It was eating away at him. He knew he was a goddamn hypocrite through and through. He had no leg to stand on using Wendy against Stan anymore. At least, not in that context. Kenny watched him being eaten alive by his feeling and his chest twisted. He tried taking his hand back reluctantly, a part of him that he tried to hide desperately dancing with joy when Kyle refused to relinquish his body part back to him. They both weren't stupid. They knew what they did was wrong, but there were no regrets as to what they did, only _how_ they did it.

Sheila frowned, "Ike, enough of that," she huffed. She directed her attention to the two embarrassed faces and watched them with a heavy heart. "Boys," she said softly, prompting them to look at her slowly. "There's absolutely _nothing_ wrong with what you did," she assured them. "No one cheated on anyone, no one was hurt."

A moment of silence passed before Kyle croaked out, "Stan was hurt. I could see it..." he sighed, gripping Kenny's hand tighter. He was so torn. He wanted Stan to hold him and tell him he was lying when he said what he said. He wanted Kenny to just take him away from all this madness into the loving embrace that he'd perfected for the redhead. He was just so lost.

"And that happens," Gerald shrugged. "Was it the best scenario? No. But boys, you shouldn't feel guilty for feeling how you feel. That's not how the world works."

"If you're feeling something for each other, then expressing it is what you _should_ do," Sheila continued. Kenny hid his face in his free hand, embarrassed out of his mind. His parents never gave him these kinds of talks, he had no idea what the hell to respond with aside from hiding, and Sheila reprimanded him for putting his hood up when talking to them so that wasn't an option. "Never _ever_ feel ashamed of who you care for," she said firmly.

Kenny and Kyle looked at each other, both their faces reddened, their eyes screaming for something to say, but no words could come. They knew Kyle's parents were right, but that didn't stop them from seeing Stan's infuriated and saddened blue eyes in the back of their minds. It wasn't exactly the best start to any kind of relationship, that was for damn sure.

A knock at the door caught all their attention and Kyle sank back into the couch worriedly. He couldn't help but wonder if it was Stan again, petrified that merely seeing him would send him into a nervous breakdown. He could tell Kenny felt the same concern, holding his hand tighter and moving in closer towards him. Sheila made her way slowly to the door, pulling it open to a curly blonde head with a sad smile. "Bebe!" she said, surprised. She hadn't seen the girl since she and Kyle had broken up all that time ago.

"Hi, Mrs. Broflovski," she smiled sweetly. "I need to talk to Kyle if that's all right."

Sheila stole a glance at her son, "I-I don't know-"

"It's fine, Mom," Kyle said softly. Sheila hesitated before nodding, opening the door wider and letting the girl step into the room.

Her eyes landed on Kyle and she could feel her heart breaking from his devastated face. She made her way to the couch, Ike hopping out of the way and gesturing for her to take his seat. She smiled at him before sitting next to Kyle, gently wrapping her arms around him. "Are you okay?" she whispered.

"I've been better," he sighed, leaning his head against hers. There was a certain level of love Kyle had always had for Bebe, the same way as she had for him. In his world, however, it was never romantic. But he went to her for advice or just a generally pleasant conversation when Stan or Kenny just wouldn't do for the time being. He _thought_ that he loved her for a while before he realized that girls just weren't his cup of tea, and he knew Bebe figured it out before he did. He'd always be thankful she never held that against him and stayed his friend.

Bebe nuzzled into his spiced scent, taking a deep breath. She looked to see his and Kenny's hands intertwined and a part of her wanted to scold them, but most of her wanted to just smile and thank the stars that Kyle realized which boy he would be better off with in the long run. She pulled back a bit and stared at the redhead, stroking her thumb over his shoulder. "Honey, you need to get out of the house tonight," she said simply.

He huffed out a small laugh, shaking his head. "I'm not going _anywhere_ until I'm forced to go to school on Monday. Even then I'll have an issue," he shrugged.

She bit her lip, looking at Kenny with a look that screamed 'trust and help me'. Kenny understood immediately, shaking Kyle's atop his leg. "She's right, Ky," he offered. "Ya need t' git that sonnova bitch off yer mind."

"Ken...I-"

"Token's having a small get-together," Bebe interrupted. "It was supposed to be a full-blown party but it got downgraded."

Kyle raised his brow, "Really? I got the text earlier and figured it was going to be another rager of his."

She shook her head, "Nah, too short of notice. It'll be me, him, Cartman, Butters, Craig, Clyde, and Tweek. You and Kenny are the only other invited guests," she lied, keeping her gaze steady on his paled face.

"I-I don't think I'm in the mood, Bebe," he winced.

"Kyle, you should go," Sheila broke in and urged. He looked at her with a level of shock, knowing that she knew full and well what he'd probably be getting into if he went to hang out with friends. But she couldn't stand seeing Kyle coop himself up and she didn't know what else to do. She knew her son well enough to know that he knew his limits and to trust him, he'd never given her a reason not to. She would fuss and panic once he was out of the house, no doubt making a show for Gerald and Ike, but she knew it would be fruitless. She'd rather he be with friends and protected than locked in his room doing god knows what out of sight of anyone.

Kenny recovered from his own surprise at her encouragement, wondering briefly if it was really Sheila Broflovski who'd just spoken before he nodded briskly. "C'mon, Ky. We'll make ya forget all about that bastard."

He bit his lip, wanting to scream his head off and stomp off to his room, locking himself away forever. But he knew they were right. Sitting around moping wasn't going to fix a damn thing. Sitting around getting _drunk,_ however, would boost his spirits at least for a good few hours. He looked to see all five sets of eyes pleading silently for him to go and to try to figure things out with friends, to be happy again and distracted, even it was only temporarily. He sighed defeatedly, wiping his burning eyes with his sleeve again and nodding, whispering a nearly silent, "Okay."

* * *

Stan's room was nearly pitch black, the only light streaming in from behind heavy curtains, and even _that_ was just too much. A part of him had the inexplicable urge to dig out his black beanie and his old eyeliner from back when he was a kid, just immerse himself in his depression until it swallowed him whole again. His face was buried into his pillow, a sick part of him wondering if he could suffocate himself with it. He felt awful. He felt like a no good piece of shit. Telling Kyle those things is something he _never_ wanted to do. The look on Kyle's face wouldn't leave his mind, those broken green eyes and that trembling lip so far from what he'd grown up with. That wasn't the Kyle he respected and cared so deeply about. That was a broken boy that had cracked under _his_ hands, and he just felt awful.

A knock came at his door and he groaned in response, burying himself deeper into his pillow.

"Stanley?" his mom's voice broke through the darkness, a sliver of light breaking in from the hallway as she opened the door.

"What?" he responded miserably.

Sharon and Randy stepped into the room, watching their son carefully. "What happened, Son?" Randy asked, a can of beer clutched lazily in his hand. Stan could hear the aluminum crinkling under his fingertips, wanting nothing more than to swipe it and the rest of the goddamn 24 pack and drink himself into a coma.

"I messed up," he answered with a wavering voice. He heard them both moving towards him, the bed dipping a bit as one of them sat next to him. He felt fingers in his hair, recognizing his mother's touch right off.

"With Kyle?" she asked gently.

He sniffled and nodded. "I told him I never loved him," he admitted. The fingers stopped and he cringed into himself, practically feeling their judgmental stares falling onto him like a landslide.

"Did...did you mean it?" Randy asked, a part of him in absolute shock. He'd seen the two of them together, he thought they thought the world of each other. Getting over the initial uncomfortableness of the boys dating wasn't a very arduous journey when he saw them together looking like it was the most natural goddamn thing in the world.

Stan sniffled, slowly propping himself up out of his pillow and sitting on the sides of his legs, looking blankly at the comforter. "Yes and no," he whispered.

"What do you mean, Honey?" Sharon asked, her fingers back to working through his thick, black hair.

"I thought I loved him romantically but I didn't," he said tiredly. "I loved him like..."

"Like your best friend," she finished. He sniffled and nodded and his parents watched him sympathetically. "Honey, it's okay to feel like that."

He bit his lip and shook his head, tears leaking out of his eyes out of his control. "No, it's not," he protested. "It should've just happened. We should've..." he groaned, hiding his face in his hands childishly and shaking his head.

"Should've just fallen in love, gotten married, and gotten the whole 2.5 kids deal?" Randy guessed. Stan nodded meekly and his father sighed, knowing there wasn't enough beer in the world for this conversation to be easy. "Stan, it doesn't always happen like that."

"He's right," Sharon inputted. "Sweetie, you can't control how you feel."

"Though telling him was a bit shitty," Randy mumbled unwittingly, flinching as a dark glare from Sharon was shot at him, clearly visible even in the limited light.

Stan took a shuddery breath, shaking his head. "I know. I know I know I _know_ I really fucked up telling him. I just...I can't figure out how to tell him how I feel without being a dick about it, ya know?" he asked, looking at them both again with glistening eyes. "What would you do?"

Sharon gathered him under her arm, Stan having to shrink himself down a bit to fit under her height but finding comfort in the gesture nonetheless. He hadn't had any kind of heart to heart with his parents in so long, but he _desperately_ needed it right now. He needed any kind of guidance he could get. "You tell him the truth," she cooed, still stroking his hair. "Stan, why does it bother you so much that you don't love him?"

"Because he loves me," he whispered. "And I _thought_ I loved him. And I do, but I'm not _in_ love with him...I'm in love with Wendy," he murmured, looking at the bed guiltily. They both sighed silently, figuring that she'd worm her way into the conversation somehow.

Randy shifted his weight, watching his son carefully. "Did I ever tell you the story of my first girlfriend, Stan?" he asked. The boy shook his head and he smiled fondly. "Back when I was in high school, there was this girl named Tammy. We were pretty good friends. Not best friends like you and Kyle, but close enough we'd been buds for about three years," he shrugged. "Plus, she was hot and willing to do anything," he grinned, Sharon's eyes raising to his suspiciously, giving him the warning to not go into too many details less he walk out of the room with a black eye. He winked at her a bit before continuing. "Anyway, Tam and I were an inseparable couple for about five months. I was absolutely in love with her. And I told her on our six month anniversary. Know what she did?"

"What?" he looked at his dad with hopeful eyes.

"Told me to fuck off, broke off our friendship, never talked to me again," he shrugged casually, taking a long sip of his beer. "She broke my heart rejecting me." Stan's face fell further and Randy could see the panic flashing through his eyes, holding his hand up to stop him. "But...I survived," he said softly. "And I found your mother not long after and realized...I didn't love Tammy as much as I thought I did. I never forgave her for the way she shut me down, doing it so fucking cruelly, without remembering that we were friends before we were a couple. Kyle _will_ forgive you if you approach this right, if you remind him that you two are more than just another failed couple," he raised his brow, tipping his beer can towards him.

He blinked, confused at his dad's ability to give actually relevant stories. It happened so rarely and he hadn't heard one in so long, but it seemed as though despite Randy's drunken stupor, he still knew his son needed him. It was enough to dumbfound him for a good few seconds before he shook it off, asking, "But how? There's no right way to tell a person you don't love them the same way they love you, right?"

"You're lucky here, Stan," Sharon input softly. "You _do_ love Kyle, in your own way. You have to tell him that you care so _much_ about him that you confused your feelings. He's a smart boy, you know that. He'll be upset, but he'll figure it out after awhile if you take the time to tell him correctly."

He wrung his hands together, grating his lip nervously. "What if...what if he doesn't? What if he does what Tammy did?"

They paused and let out a simultaneous sigh. "If he does, which I doubt he will knowing him," Randy raised his brow, "Then...you're better off." Stan's head dropped back down and he sniffled, unable to imagine how his world would be without Kyle involved in it somehow.

"Honey, you just have to get through this," Sharon encouraged. "It's going to hurt. It's going to hurt a _lot_ , but it'll eat you alive if you leave it where you did and you know it."

"I know," he whispered, looking up into Sharon's hazel eyes as they watched him pitiably. Sharon remembered the first time Stan had broken up with Wendy, how devastated her little nine year old had been. This one, however, seemed even worse, like Stan was literally missing a part of his soul. In a way, that was true. Kyle was too important in Stan's life for him to just go without him.

"Kyle loves you," she said firmly, feeling him slink and shaking him lightly. "And if he loves you, he'll listen. He'll understand. He'll be angry and he'll hurt, too, but you'll both be okay."

"You promise?" he whispered, feeling like a lost child.

She smiled and nodded and Randy smirked. "We promise, Kiddo," he inputted.

"Um, hi," a meek voice broke through. They all shot their heads to the door, seeing Wendy standing there shyly, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Hello, Wendy," Sharon said stoically, sighing to herself. She never liked the girl who kept tugging her son's heart around, but she knew that it was up to Stan to decide on his fate with her, much as she opposed it.

"Sorry I just came in," she bit her lip, knowing that she walked a fine enough line with Stan's parents and trying not to push her limits. "The door was unlocked and no one answered when I knocked..."

"It's fine, Wendy," Randy waved the notion away, gesturing for her to step inside.

She smiled gratefully, looking at Stan and taking a deep breath. "You okay, Hon?"

He shrugged listlessly. "I feel like shit, Wends."

"I can imagine," she murmured, keeping her distance from the two on the bed. She'd learned not to interfere when Sharon was touching Stan lest she get the glare of a very jealous mother inscribed on the back of her eyelids. "What do you want to do about it?"

He sniffed, looking between his parents who nodded encouragingly. "I...I wanna talk to him," he sighed defeatedly. "But he'll never want to..." he trailed off, looking into her grey eyes shining in the diluted sunbeams dancing through the curtains.

She sighed to herself in relief, pushing her prepared lies to the back of her mind, more than grateful they weren't necessary. She chuckled a bit and offered him a sad, understanding smile, "Well, if you really mean it, if you _really_ want to try...then you need to clean yourself up."


	21. In the Open Air

Dulled green eyes flittered to the clock nestled in the corner of the room, reading 8:45. He took a deep breath, raising a bottle of beer to his lips and taking another long sip. He could hear the hustle and bustle coming from the outside of Token's sitting room where he was being sequestered. He wanted to be angry that Bebe had lied to him, but he was too tired, just too emotionally drained to be upset with her for just trying to help him get out. His nose scrunched at the taste of the amber washing over his palate. Kyle had always had a strong disdain for beer, but it was what Token had had when they'd arrived nearly an hour beforehand.

The door opened and his eyes flickered towards it, watching Kenny and Bebe walking in with arms full of liquor bottles. He raised his brow as they set them on the coffee table in front of him. Kenny gestured to the lineup dramatically. "Ok, Ky, pick yer poison."

He shrugged listlessly, stroking his finger through a bead of condensation running down his bottle. "I really don't care," he said blankly. The blondes looked at each other before Bebe sighed, grabbing a bottle of strawberry vodka and screwing off the top, grabbing Kyle's beer bottle and trading them off. Kyle blinked, "I uh...I can have a glass, ya know."

"You don't want one and you damn well know it," she replied superiorly. Kyle briefly considered protesting before just sighing in defeat, nestling himself back into the cool leather of the couch beneath him. He just wanted this day to be over. He took a sip of the vodka, the taste dancing pleasantly on his tongue. His eyes slipped shut, his heart nearly stopping as nothing but Stan's face appeared behind his lids. Great. He took another long sip, vaguely aware of the couch dipping on either side of him.

He reopened his vision to the two of them and tried to shoot them a weak smile. "So, what's going on out there?" he asked softly.

Ken shrugged, throwing his arm around Kyle's shoulders, watching him drinking with sympathetic eyes. "Damage control," he said simply.

He cocked his head, "Of what?"

"Your little rumor problem," Bebe smiled, flicking his arm. "Cartman's going around telling people _he_ started the rumors."

Kyle eyed her suspiciously, taking a quick glance at the bottle clutched in his hand to make sure he hadn't drank a lot more than he previously thought. "Why would he do that?"

Kenny cleared his throat awkwardly, "Yeah...yer gonna owe him. Can't be worse than gettin' sandwiches thrown at ya, though, right?" he winced.

"Great," he rolled his eyes. "Why would people believe him? I'm sure the people who _started_ some of those stories are out there," he gestured towards the shut door pulsing with the bass of Token's music.

Bebe chuckled, "I hate that fatass but he's kind of a genius," she admitted. "He's acting like he lost a bet with Butters and had to tell the truth. He's doing that thing he does when he has to apologize to you," she smirked. "The whole 'won't look at you' deal and everything. He's quite the convincing actor," she shrugged.

"'Sides, who's gonna admit that _they_ started the rumor when he brings it up?" Kenny smirked, reaching forward and grabbing a Jack Daniels from the table, unscrewing it and taking a long, satisfactory sip.

Kyle nodded slowly, taking his own swig and tonguing over his lips. "And I guess he'd be the easiest to believe he'd start a rumor mill about me..." he trailed off and sighed. "Well...hopefully he can help at least a little. Wonder what it'll cost me, though," he said dryly, leaning back against Kenny tiredly.

Kenny jostled him lightly with a smile, "Nothing less than all your dignity, I'm sure."

Kyle gave a half-hearted snort, "Probably." He took another drink, oblivious to Kenny and Bebe giving each other subtle signals over his head as he stared at the clean wine-colored carpeting beneath his feet. Kenny bit his lip as Bebe raised her brow questionably, his heart sinking. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want Kyle to suffer more than he already had today, but he knew as well as anyone that this bullshit had to stop.

"Hey, Ky?" he asked softly, poking his arm. Kyle turned and looked at him, those bright green eyes wide as he stared at him. "How're ya feelin'?"

He shrugged, "Better, I guess. Two beers and this are helping," he chuckled, shaking the bottle a bit. "I'm just...tired. Tired and upset. I want Stan to apologize or me to just feel better or just _something_ good to happen...a-and I just want to curl up and _die_ ," he finally broke, his voice cracking at the end. Kenny's heart lurched, but that's what he was waiting for. He nodded to Bebe, who patted Kyle's shoulder, getting up and heading out of the room in silence. Kyle watched after her confusedly before looking back at Kenny. The blonde was staring at him intensively, biting his cheek. Kyle was right at the point he needed to be. A few drinks in got him talking, telling people how he _really_ felt without trying to be an overly-defensive mess. They had a fine-eyed number of sips left before he became lucid and went on a full-on rampage which he'd forget about the next day. Everything had to work and _fast_.

"I'm sorry ya feel so bad, Kyle," he said gently. "But ya don't wanna die."

"Yes, I do," he choked out, wiping his eyes. "Or...just go into a coma. Wake up in three years with amnesia and just start over again."

Kenny shook him, a sad glaze over his eyes. "Then you'd forget about me," he said cheekily.

"You're going in the coma with me," he pouted, taking another long sip and sighing as Kenny snickered, shaking his head. "Don't laugh, Buddy. I'm taking you dooowwwnnn," he pointed towards the floor and raised his brow in challenge.

Ken smirked, Kyle's slight slur telling him to get the alcohol out of his hands. He did so and Kyle whined, reaching over Kenny's lap and grabbing towards the bottle. Kenny shook his head, pushing against his shoulder. "Nope, I'm spacin' you out, Broflovski," he said. "I ain't draggin' yer drunk ass back to yer house."

"I'll sleep here," he protested with a pout, his slender fingers still reaching towards it as he dangled over Ken's legs still.

"No," he said firmly, reaching over and putting the bottle back on the in-table, patting Kyle's head as he let out another high-pitched wail.

"You suck, Kenny," he pouted, giving up and just flopping uselessly on his lap. He looked up and twisted his lips, silently begging for Kenny to let him drink himself to sleep. The blonde shrugged, taking his whiskey and setting it beside Kyle's bottle. They stayed in that position for a little while, Kyle's eyes fleeting towards the drinks and Kenny, his buzzed mind wondering if he could beat Kenny in a fight if he had to. The blonde was busy mindlessly playing with a curl of Kyle's hair, his lips set in a grim line. He didn't want this conversation to happen. He didn't want Bebe to bring back her target. The _last_ person Ken wanted to see or hear was Stan fucking Marsh. But after tucking Kyle away in the sitting room and being surrounded by Bebe, Token and his group and practically screamed at, he'd had to cave. He just knew one thing: Stan was walking a _very_ fine line and he was liable to get the full brunt of Kenny's fist if he didn't tread carefully. But he knew that didn't matter. What mattered was getting Kyle to crawl out of the hole Stan had thrown him into.

"Stan would never do this," Kyle murmured against his legs.

Ken cocked his head, "Do what?"

"...Play with my hair," he said quietly.

"Want me to stop?" he cringed.

Kyle shook his head, nuzzling into the warmth of Kenny's thighs and taking a long breath. "No. I like it," he admitted shyly. Kenny blinked, huffing out a little laugh through his nose. Honest drinking Kyle was always his favorite. He'd told Kenny so much over the years through their drunken adventures together, things that made the blonde fall for him and fall for him _hard_. This was definitely no exception. They relished in the serenity of it all, their bodies vibrating along with the music outside the room. Deep, calming breaths flew through both of them before they looked to see the door opening once more.

Bebe stepped in, eyeing their position and gulping. "Uh..." she started before Wendy and Clyde stepped into the room, followed closely by a very distraught looking Stan.

"Oh my god are you kidding me?" he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly.

Kyle blinked, slowly sitting up off of Kenny and his jaw quivering. "Leave," he said quietly, but with a tinge of malice that made them all gulp.

"Kyle, Stan wants to talk," Wendy said softly, putting her hands up defensively. "Just talk, nothing else."

"He's said _enough_ today, you fucking slut!" he broke from his subdued tone and screamed. Wendy's face fell and she looked at the floor shamefully, rubbing her arm self-consciously. Stan subtly touched her back and she shuddered. She knew Kyle didn't mean it, but damn did it hurt coming from someone like him.

"Kyle, Kyle, down," Kenny bit his lip, turning and putting his hands around Kyle's arms that were heaving with his furious panting. Sparks flew through his jade irises, locked on Stan and ready to murder it seemed.

Stan bit his lip, "Ky, please."

"Don't you fucking 'Ky' me," he spat, grating his teeth. "Take that whore that you're so 'in love' with and _leave_."

Stan's brows furrowed, "Well then how about you and _your_ whore go fuck off?!" he gestured at Kenny wildly. The blonde looked rearing to leap up and take him down, a bit grateful that his energy was focused on Kyle for the moment. Clyde groaned and rolled his eyes, pushing him further into the room and shutting the door with a soft click.

Bebe and Wendy stepped between the group at the foot of the coffee table, looking at the boys sternly. "Boys, _enough_ ," Bebe said firmly. "You two are acting fucking ridiculous!"

"No, he is!" they both shouted, pointing at each other accusingly.

"Stan," Wendy hissed. "You said you wanted to _talk_ to Kyle, not start another fucking fight!"

"But he's laying on Kenny's-"

"It doesn't matter!" she interrupted his whiny protest. Clyde moved to grab a chair and set it in front of the coffee table. Wendy grabbed Stan's arm and marched him to it, shoving him down to sit across from the still-fuming redhead. "Boys, you need to talk it out. And you're not leaving this fucking room until you do. You each have two people on your sides, so no one is cornered here and there is going to be _no_ physical confrontation, understand?" she looked between them with a sharp slice of her grey eyes.

"Oh?" Kyle gave a fake laugh. "And what makes you think I should listen to _you_?" he sneered.

"Yer not. Yer gonna to listen t' me," Kenny broke in, Kyle whipping his head around and staring at the blonde confusedly. "Ky," he said softly. "Ya don't want this. Ya don't want t' be angry at him." He rubbed his hand up and down Kyle's arm, a part of him fearful from the tenseness lingering in the muscle. Kyle was ready to leap the moment Kenny's hands lost contact, he could feel it.

Kyle's jaw dropped, "You were _there_!" he protested. "Kenny, he called me a fucking downgrade!"

"You what?!" Wendy yelled, whipping her head over to Stan who cringed.

"Oh, Dude," Clyde winced.

Wendy growled, slapping Stan's head pointedly. He winced, rubbing over the victim spot. "Jesus fucking _Christ_ , Stanley!"

"I'm sorry," he whispered guiltily.

Kenny took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure and looking at Kyle again. "Then don't be one," he said. Kyle looked at him like he'd grown a second head and he reached up, squeezing the smaller boy's shoulders. "He n' Wendy made up after all the bullshit arguments they've had. Don't make yerself the drama queen in his life," he said. "Prove yer better than that bitch," he shot a glare at Wendy who returned it for a brief moment before letting it falter.

"I already did," Kyle growled, turning back and facing Stan who was sitting there with a stoney face. Kyle knew that look better than anyone. It was Stan's infamous 'If I speak right now I'll lose my goddamn mind' expression. "I proved it over seven months that she could never hold down," he pointed at the girl angrily. "I picked up this asshole time and again...Made him my whole fucking WORLD!" he screamed, standing up suddenly, ripping out of Kenny's hold. "But no. No, he wants the bitch who treats him like he's a fucking appetizer!"

"Appetizer?" Clyde raised his brow.

"Good to have now and again, but only if you're feeling it," he clarified lowly.

Wendy's shoulders dropped lower and she sniffled. "Kyle," she said, her voice cracking. "Kyle I'm so sorry. I-I didn't mean to disrespect you."

"Well you have a funny way of showing it, Testaburger," he snarled. "It isn't _just_ that you spread your legs for him yesterday. You think I didn't fucking _notice_ you trailing him like a goddamn bloodhound while we were dating?!" he yelled. "You think I was cool with you walking up and talking to him all the time? No," he snapped. "But I left you be. Because I _trusted_ Stan," he looked back at the silent boy with a sharp glare. "Unlike him, who couldn't stand the thought of me and Kenny even being friends."

Stan took a deep breath, trying to control his rising temper, his building guilt. Everything felt ready to wash over him, drown him. Kyle was going to anchor him to the bottom of the sea if he didn't start talking. "Kyle," he said softly. "This isn't about Wendy. Or Kenny."

"Really? Because that seems to me that was your _only_ reason for breaking up with me. Oh, you know, aside from the fact that I'm a downgrade and you don't love me," he drawled, crossing his arms angrily.

"Kyle, I _do_ love you," he said, jumping up out of his seat and staring across the table at the small redhead. "Just not in the same way you love me!" Kenny and Clyde both stood beside the boys, ready to grab them if one should lead a full-out assault.

Kyle furrowed his brows, "You think I still love you? You should start a fucking stand-up act, Stan."

"Kyle," Kenny touched his arm. The redhead looked up at him and Kenny took a shuddery breath at the intensity behind those bloodshot eyes. "Ky, sit down. Let him explain." Kyle looked between him and Stan, both of them looking beyond desperate. Stan's face he couldn't care less about at this point, wanting nothing more than to rip it off. But Kenny looked like a goddamn wounded puppy and his slight buzz was making him more susceptible to his pitiable feelings for the blonde. He sighed angrily, plopping down beside Kenny with his arms still crossed, looking at Stan with an expression that read for him to tread very carefully.

Stan bit his lip, looking at his hands nervously. "Kyle, I'm sorry," he said earnestly. "I-I swear to God, I love you. I fucking love you to the goddamn ends of the Earth. Not in the same way as Wendy, though," he sighed, tapping his index fingers, highly aware of the five sets of eyes locked on him like a goddamn target. "I care about you so fucking much I thought it _was_ that kind of love but...but no, it wasn't," he shook his head. "We just don't work as a couple," he admitted quietly. "But fuck, we work as best friends...a-and I don't want to lose that!" he finally looked up at the redhead, who recoiled a bit into Kenny at the tears welling in Stan's eyes. He hadn't seen Stan cry in a _long_ time, and he couldn't help but feel some relief that he wasn't the only blubbering mess in this whole thing.

The room was silent for a moment before Kyle took a deep breath, watching the noirette closely. "Then why did you call me a downgrade?" he whispered.

Stan's shoulders slunk and he shook his head. "I didn't mean it," he sniffed. "I was just so... _angry._ Seeing you and Kenny...seeing you being happy _with_ Kenny so soon drove me fucking crazy, the way seeing me and Wends did for you," he shrugged sheepishly. "You and Wendy are on the same goddamn level to me just...in different playing fields. That's all."

Kyle gulped down a dry breath, eyes flickering to Wendy who was staring at the floor, avoiding his gaze. Good. He looked back at the boy in front of him. "Why did you even agree to go out with me?" he asked lowly, feelings starting to re-emerge that he really did _not_ want to deal with as he remembered very clearly how Stan looked so fucking _happy_ when he accepted the request.

"Honestly, because...I-I think you're hot?" he winced. "And I figured that we work so _well_ as friends that it'd be natural for us to be a couple..." he slowly sat back down into his chair, folding his hands between his knees and sighing. "But it wasn't. Something was always off, Kyle, you know it."

Kyle shifted, redirecting his gaze to the assortment of bottles still scattered on the coffee table. He definitely couldn't deny that. The first few months had been pure bliss, but things started failing for him long before they'd gotten to this point. He just figured it was a weird patch. He couldn't say that he didn't feel foolish at believing such a notion. "I guess that explains _why_ it was off," he grumbled.

"Whaddya mean?" he blinked.

"You never treated me like I was your boyfriend, at least, not after the initial high died down," he muttered sadly, looking off to the side, focusing on Bebe's grey Mary Janes blankly. "The only thing extra was the sex, and...and you barely wanted me included in that," he slunk down.

Stan bit his lip, shaking his leg a bit in all the tenseness. "Why do you think that?" he asked. Wendy told him he needed the full story, that he'd have to ask questions and get Kyle to come out and say all of it or none of this would be fixed. God, he didn't want to, though, he felt like _enough_ of a jackass to last him the rest of eternity.

Kyle looked back at him finally, his eyes glistening. The alcohol still flowing warmly through his system prompting him to keep going, to throw every goddamn fact at Stan that he could. "You didn't care about what I wanted. Never. You wouldn't even-" he stopped, looking around at their audience who were gaping at him like a goddamn circus attraction. "Okay, Bebe and Clyde get out," he snapped. "The other two can stay. I think we're past the point of full-on murder."

Bebe and Clyde pouted before nodding, knowing better than to mess with the temperamental Jew. "Okay, just holler if you need another set of ears," Bebe said, leaning down and kissing Kyle's head, his face erupting in a blush.

"I ain't kissing you," Clyde told Stan pointedly, pushing his shoulder as Stan smirked lightly. The two of them made their way out the door and back into the thrall of the party, shutting the door behind them. The remainder turned to look at each other, waiting for Kyle to continue.

Kyle let out a long breath, stealing looks at Kenny and Wendy. "If _anything_ said in this room gets out to those people," he pointed to the door, "Then I will kill all three of you, do we understand?"

"Perfectly," Wendy nodded, holding her hands up. "Kyle, we just want to fix this."

"Hm," he rolled his eyes before focusing back on the confused boy staring at him expectantly. "Fuck, Stan, I wanted to goddamn top and you told me to fuck off!" he waved his arms, watching Stan cringing to himself. "And then you called me a goddamn girl about it!" he continued. "I mean, you didn't even _consider_ letting me have something I wanted, something that would have made us _equal_. No. You fucking couldn't even _pretend_ to care about my feelings!"

Kenny and Wendy looked at each other, not quite sure how to handle the amount of awkward that had just flooded the room. "Dude, not cool," Ken commented.

"Yeah, really," Wendy shook her head.

"I know, I know," Stan spat, scratching at his hair. "I'm sorry, the concept scared the piss out of me and I didn't want to do it."

"Why didn't you just _tell_ me it fucking scared you?!" Kyle questioned incredulously. "Jesus fucking Christ I wouldn't have pushed if you told me that! We could have _talked_ about it and figured out where to go from there. Instead you had to be Mr. Macho about the whole thing and tell me 'well, you're smaller, and smaller people bottom'," he mocked, making faces all along the way.

"I panicked," he admitted, putting his hand over his eyes and growling at himself. Hearing it coming from Kyle's mouth really made it sound as stupid as it was. Made sense in his post-coital high, but now he felt like a raging retard.

Kyle took a deep breath, staring at the blushing boy and shaking his head slowly. Seeing Stan admit his faults was something, but damn it all if it didn't still feel like the knife was being twisted through his veins. "Did _everything_ make you panic? Because...you never wanted to change anything. Ever," he said softly.

Stan looked at him, tonguing over his lips and trying to beat off his flooding embarrassment. "No. I just...I loved how we were, you know?" he shrugged lightly. "I loved how chill we were with each other. How we could sit in a room for hours and not say anything and do our own shit and be perfectly content with that. When we were dating it was...like we were being pressured, ya know?"

Kyle narrowed his eyes in confusion, "From who?"

Stan looked over at Kenny and took a deep breath, "From him," he gestured to the blonde.

"What'd I do?!" Kenny blinked in shock.

Stan smirked a little, "You became Kyle's best friend. Not me," he admitted sadly. "You were the one he ran to with all his problems. I didn't _know_ there was a romantic thing going on," he waved dismissively. "But...I felt like I was trying to keep up with you because Kyle just didn't come to me with his shit anymore. And...I thought that's what he wanted because he never really protested, so I just kind of fell into a routine," he sighed, looking at the floor guiltily. "I fucking hated you," he grumbled, focusing his bleary eyes on the fibers of carpeting squished under the legs of the table. "I hated that Kyle came to you, not me. I wanted you to butt the fuck out because he was supposed to be mine, and it felt like I was sharing him..." he looked back up at Kenny who was staring at him in bewilderment. "I'm a possessive fuck," he smiled weakly.

Kenny shifted a bit on the couch, feeling Kyle's body under his arm burning like a match. "Sorry," he said sheepishly. "But...I never woulda gone after him while you two were together, Dude."

"I know," he whispered, nodding slowly. "Because you know I could flatten you into the pavement."

Ken snorted a little, "Yeah, that was a bit of a deterrent."

Kyle watched Stan carefully, letting his words sink in and tapping his finger on his arm in thought. "Stan?" he waited for the boy's head to rise back up to him and he gulped, a rush of clarity breaking through all the anger from the boy's admittance. "Stan, I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Kenny," he whispered. "I had a choice between you two and...and I went with you and I didn't want our group to fall apart from it all, so I kept it a secret. I'm sorry," he repeated. He shifted a bit and wiped a burning eye with the back of his hand. "I went to Kenny because you closed me off with so many little things I was afraid to come to you with bigger stuff anymore," he admitted. "I didn't want you to...call me a girl," he muttered.

His shoulders fell and he sighed, "Jesus, I'm sorry I kept calling you that," he winced. "You're not a girl, you're way too tolerable to be a girl," he smirked sadly. Wendy kicked his leg but he ignored it, looking to see the barest hint of a smile creep onto Kyle's lips. "Kyle, I'm sorry," he said. "This sucks. This really... _really_ fucking sucks."

"We're both shitty people," Kyle mumbled embarrassedly.

"No, yer not," Kenny said softly, looking between the both of them. "Ya both fucked up. Ya fucked up _bad_...But guys, it happens."

"Right," Wendy agreed with a small nod. "Boys, you tried and you failed. It's okay. You work better as friends and there's nothing wrong with that. You _both_ need that routine," she looked at Kyle pointedly. "And others can help fill the voids in-between."

"Voids like your vagina?" Kyle stated dryly.

She shot him a sharp look. "You sucked Kenny's dick, Kyle. Don't fucking judge me, you hypocrite."

Kyle blinked, his head falling guiltily. "You're right. I'm sorry..." he looked up at her and took a deep breath. "I hate you with every fiber of my being, Wendy, I'm not going to fucking lie...But you're not a slut. I'm sorry."

"Well, maybe one day we can be friends again," she said softly, her heart dropping just a tad. "You have every right to hate me...just like I hated _you_ when you and Stan were together. I just hope one day you can realize that I never meant to hurt you."

He sighed, nodding softly. "We'll see."

Stan put his chin into his palm and looked over at Kenny. "I would apologize for calling you a whore, but hell, I've been on an honesty streak today and don't wanna break it."

Ken snorted a bit, waving his hand dismissively. "Eh, I've been called worse. Ain't no hard feelin's when it's the truth."

He paused, looking between the two on the couch and taking a deep breath, trying to press down that jealousy that was trying so desperately to once again rear its ugly head. "So...are you two dating now or..." Stan looked at them with a raised brow.

"Ask us again in two months," Kyle murmured, giving Kenny a small side smile. Kenny grinned back, reaching over and squeezing the boy's hand before looking back to the opposing noirettes.

Stan looked at the redhead curiously. "Two months. So...we can still talk and stuff?" he asked hopefully.

Kyle stared into his blue eyes, those eyes that he thought he'd be staring at for the rest of his life, his heart still pounding with hurt but a load of relief flowing out of his fingertips. The contradictory state of being was exhausting him. "I think...we have to work back towards it," he said slowly. "Because I won't lie, seeing you right now is killing me, Stan," he bit his lip.

He nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Yeah me, too...But...maybe we can get back to where we were."

"Maybe," he echoed with a weak smile.

Stan returned the expression, slowly getting to his feet and looking down at the redhead. "I have to go help Cartman fix the mess I made," he winced, scratching his hair awkwardly.

"It's okay," Kyle assured him softly. "I know you didn't mean for it to get out of hand...Just...even if things go back to normal for us..."

"I'm never lying about you again," he interjected hurriedly. "That was shitty of me to do..." He rubbed his neck and sighed. "I kinda just wanted to brag that I'd gotten you and it went further than expected. Sorry, Dude."

He shrugged, a buried part of him couldn't help but be the tiniest bit flattered at the reasoning, shitty as the result had been. "If you help fix it, it'll never be brought up again," he promised.

He nodded, "Will do. I'll...see you guys around," he waved meekly, turning and heading towards the door, grabbing Wendy's hand on the way. The two of them left behind watched after them for a good few minutes, sitting on the couch in utter silence before Kenny looked over at the stoic redhead.

"How ya doin', Kid?"

Kyle looked at him and took a deep breath, staring into that second set of blue eyes. "Promise me something," he said softly.

"What?" he cocked his head.

"If things go right for us...promise me that we won't do this."

Kenny brought a hand up, slowly wrapping it in his hair and petting him softly. Kyle leaned into his touch, moving against his shoulder and staring blankly towards the door, waiting for his response. "I can't," he finally said. "Stan freaked out like he did 'cause he loves ya...But I love ya more," he whispered into his curls. "So if we fight, it could git worse."

Kyle crinkled his nose and looked at the blonde. "You won't fucking tell me if you'll date me for two months but you'll say you love me?"

Kenny grinned cheekily, "I told ya. I say what I want. The fuck is stoppin' me?" Kyle shook his head, leaning back against him and relishing in the tension gone from the room. Kenny poked his head. "Uh...can ya like...respond t' what I said?" he asked nervously.

Kyle's face broke into a mischievous grin, his eyes slipping shut contentedly. "Ask me again in two months." Kenny scoffed and smacked his head, both of them laughing softly under the bass pumping through the room.

It wasn't perfect. Kyle was still hurt, as was Stan. And neither of them knew if they could ever truly return to how they once were. Time and patience was both their enemy and their only possibility of making any headway, which for the two stubborn souls set on the path would be difficult. The wounds were still there, the cuts still visible as they stood next to one another holding the knives. But the promise was still lingering there on the horizon, more than ready for the boys to find their way back into the land of milk and honey from whence they'd emerged. They both knew it'd be difficult, they both knew that it would never be able to fix itself in one fell swoop if at all, but they also knew a truth they'd carried throughout their lifetimes: The two of them loved each other, enough that they'd broken each other into pieces. Now, they both knew it was time to redirect that love into staving through the bleak winter that'd set itself upon them and breaking through back into the light, back to where it belonged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only an epi left! Thanks for reading!


	22. Epilogue: The Beginning

**Two months later**

Kenny stared at the tiled floor exhaustively as he trudged into school. Only three weeks left of this hell and he knew he'd be free, but damn it all if that felt like an eternity at this point. He grunted as someone ran into him trying to hurry off towards the other side of the building, rolling his eyes and thanking all the gods he could think of that it was Friday. One more consecutive day dealing with people frantically scurrying about was likely to drive him to his edge.

He nodded to Craig and Tweek as he passed them by, Craig flipping him off mindlessly. The blonde snorted, returning the gesture as he made way towards his locker. He dropped his bag on the floor, cringing at the obnoxiously loud sound that echoed in the hall under the murmurs of numerous conversations. He wiped his eyes tiredly as he fumbled with his combination, ripping open the door and yelping as a collection fell out of the locker and onto the floor. He raised his brow at a variety of flowers scattered about, petals fluttering still onto the tile beneath him.

"So," a voice came from behind him. He turned to see Kyle staring at him with crossed arms and a quirked, amused brow. "One of two options: Either you beat the shit out of me for embarrassing you oooorrrr you walk home tomorrow with your hair looking like high Hell. You make the call," he smirked.

Kenny chuckled, "Well how can I say no t' an offer like that?" he grinned.

"...Still not sure which one you're referring to," Kyle teased.

"Don't make me beg, Broflovski, it ain't my style," he winked, grabbing him around the waist and pulling him in closely. "Yer sure?" he asked softly, scanning over the redhead hesitantly.

He pouted, "Dude those fucking flowers cost me goddamn fifty dollars, trust me, I weighed my options." Ken snorted, leaning down and kissing him briskly.

"Well then, don't _you_ owe me an answer?" he taunted, poking his blushing cheek.

"Not until tomorrow," he said primly.

He scoffed, "Nerd." Kyle shrugged, reaching up and grabbing around his neck, pulling him down for another kiss. They both sighed contentedly into one another's mouths. The last two months had been pure hell on the both of them, Kyle walking a fine line between fury and sadness, trying to figure out if Kenny was worth risking the same results all over again. The blonde himself was trying to stay out of Kyle's way, knowing that him hanging all over him constantly wouldn't exactly give him a fair chance to look at the situation without feeling pressured. But Kyle figured out that this was what he wanted, regardless of any influence the blonde had pulled over him the last eight weeks. It was worth the risk. He ran his hand up through Kenny's hair, pulling him in closer, their tongues dancing around each other's lovingly. It was perfect. At least, for a few minutes.

A sudden thick hand on Kyle's shoulder yanked them apart, the redhead looking up angrily to find Cartman smirking at him. "So, it's official then?" he said sweetly.

Kyle leaned his head back and groaned, Kenny watching confusedly. "What's wrong?"

"Kahl has some obligations to fulfill, for me being his dashing hero and all," Cartman shrugged with a grin, clearing his throat and looking at others lingering in the hallway. "Well Kahl!" he shouted, catching everyone's attention and sending the redhead into a blushing fit. "I didn't know you and Kinny were dating!"

"Yes. It's true," Kyle muttered monotonously. Kenny leaned back beside his open locker, watching the show unfolding curiously.

"Speak UP, Kahl," Cartman kicked him.

"It's fucking true!" he shouted, his face erupting into a blotch of carmine as he hopped on his uninjured leg.

Cartman smirked, putting his hand on the smaller boy's shoulder. "Is it because of me?" he feigned a pout.

Kyle sighed in irritation, wishing to God he could just drop through the floor right then and there. "Yes. You broke my heart, Cartman."

"There, there," he pouted, patting him lightly. "Why did I break your heart?"

Kyle eyed the crowd watching them curiously, so much of him wanting to just knock Cartman's lights out and go about his day. But he owed him. He'd gotten back to his state of being a wallflower and he'd been enjoying it once again through Cartman's lies. He just didn't want to have to deal with this bullshit the brunette had made him memorize the month beforehand, just waiting for Kyle to make his move on Kenny. "Because you were my first choice," he rolled his eyes. "Kenny is only second best compared to you," he gestured back to the blonde who was ready to piss himself in stifled laughter.

"And what about me is so great?" Cartman grinned.

Kyle smacked his lips, his eyes drooping boredly and focusing on the lockers straight across from him. "You're so smart. And strong. And not fat at all. I just wish you would..." he faltered, shaking his head.

"Go on, Kaaahhlll," he elbowed him, smiling with pure glee at the humiliation rocketing off of the Jew's body.

"I just wish you would hold me, but I'm just not good enough for you," he recited dully. "My heart will never feel complete without you. Oh Eric. My hero," he sighed.

Cartman sniggered, patting his shoulder again. "There there, Kahl. I'm sure Po'Boy will be fine for you," he teased. "Sorry I'm not a raging homo like yourself, plus, I mean, it'd never work, right?"

"Whatever do you mean?" he said, digging his fingers into his arms.

"I mean, I'm a pure Catholic man and you're a scrawny little conniving Jewish piece of shit," he said sympathetically. "Isn't that right?"

Kyle shot him a sharp glare, taking a long breath through his nose. "Uh huh."

"Well, I hope I haven't made things _awkward_ for you, Kahl," he smirked, looking at the amused faces surrounding them and Kyle's heated blush. He patted his curls and chuckled. "You'll make it, I know you will," he taunted, turning on his heel and walking away from them.

Kenny snorted, stepping up beside of the blushing Jew and shaking his head. "Dude. That was _painful_."

"Tell me about it," he muttered.

Kenny threw his arm around his shoulders, kissing his ear lightly. "There there," he mimicked before dropping into a growl in his ear. "I'll take your mind off of him tonight."

Kyle smiled, hitting his shoulder back into him and laughing softly. "I'm holding you up to that, McCormick."

"I'll blow yer expectations outta the water, Broflovski," he winked, pecking his temple.

"You know, you could do better," a voice that they hadn't heard for months startled them. They turned to see Stan looking at Kyle with a cross of a smile and nausea over his face.

"The fuck's that supposed to mean?" Kenny pouted.

He snorted, "Didn't mean you, Dumbfuck. I meant Cartman."

Kyle's face fell into a scowl. "Dude. Come on. It was bad enough, don't fucking rub it in."

Stan chuckled, giving a slight shrug. "I'm just sayin', if you want more meat on your guys, Ken's a far cry from that."

"Ugh," he shuddered.

"More cushion for the pushin' and whatnot," he continued.

"Oh my god, STOP," Kyle covered his face and made gagging noises from behind his hands.

Stan took his distraction as an opportunity to look at Kenny's arm still secured around him, feeling only a tinge of sadness welling in the deepest pits of his stomach and nearly sighing in relief. It wasn't like it had been last month, where the idea still threw him into a raging fit. He still didn't like it...but it was better. He looked up to see Kenny watching him cautiously, sparing him a small, approving smile. The blonde visibly relaxed, a back part of his mind had been cowering in fear that Stan was going to wrestle him away from Kyle and beat him senseless.

Kyle finally looked back up, noticing their shared look and feeling a wave of comfort washing over him. He'd been dreading Cartman's little show for today, but had been nearly tearing his hair out wondering what Stan would do. The expression gave him a wave of confidence that he'd nearly had doused out so long ago and he licked over his lips. "Hey," he said softly. Stan looked at him and cocked his head. He shrugged awkwardly, "You know that gay-ass pep rally bullshit today?"

"Ugh, yes," he rolled his eyes, knowing that Kyle despised that shit just as much as he did.

He shifted a bit, looking at Kenny briefly who nodded in approval, a wide smile on his face. "You wanna skip with me and Ken? We're sneaking out to Shakey's instead with Fatass and Butters."

Stan broke into a wide grin and nodded briskly. "Yeah. Yeah, Dude. That'd be great."

"Cool...and uh...you should bring Wendy if she wants to come," he said quietly. He knew Stan would feel completely cornered otherwise, and although the idea of being in such close proximity to the girl filled him with anger, he forced it down to give him a reassuring smile.

Stan blinked in confusion at the offer, his insides tap dancing with joy at the prospect of Kyle once again opening up to him before shrugging sheepishly, "I'll see if she wants to, but either way, I'll meet you at the usual place then?" Kyle nodded, the both of them nearly losing themselves before shaking back into reality. "I gotta go, I'll see you then," he said softly, walking by and bumping Kyle's shoulder with his own as he passed. The two of them watched him walking off, meeting Wendy down at her locker and giving her a small kiss.

Kyle watched them with a saddened glaze over his eyes, quickly shaking it off as Kenny's lips found themselves attached to his neck. "That was awesome of ya, Kyle," Ken said against his skin. "How're you feeling?"

"Lost," he admitted. "But...you said to let you be my compass, so I guess I can fight through it," he looked at him with a sad smile. Kenny returned the expression, pecking his lips softly. He turned and grabbed his books from his locker, shaking off a few sparse petals and slamming it shut. He grabbed Kyle's hand and started to tote him down the hallway, the both of them passing Stan and Wendy.

Kyle and Stan's eyes locked once again, each of them sparing brief glimpses at the people attached to the other and giving a knowing smile. They both knew they were working on it, that the other still had some deep-seated trust issues. But the effort was being made, and the people that they both needed to help them get through it had their backs all along the way. As Kenny and Kyle continued on, putting the distance between the separate couples, the exes couldn't help but sigh to themselves. Day by day, step by step, they were getting there. And, for the first time in nearly a year, they were finally willing to give it their all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're gonna be okay in the end~
> 
> Thank you guys so much for the continued support of this story! Hope you enjoyed it and hope to catch you around on other projects!


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